The Long and Winding Road
by Number One Fan of Journey
Summary: It's been almost five years since the near-apocalypse, and Belle is finally prepared to leave the safety of her town walls and find her younger brother. But it's a long journey through dangerous terrain, and it will take all her endurance to make it. In fact, it's entirely possible she can't do it on her own...
1. Day

Author's Note: Well, this has been in the works for a while, and I can't wait any more to start posting. I make no promises as far as updates go for various reasons, but I have no intention of abandoning this story, so don't worry about that.

I'm not sure what else to say, so let's just get into the story of a pairing that needs more love.

* * *

Holding her breath, Belle carefully aimed her rifle. The surest shot was right through the sorry creature's brain. That way, it couldn't even survive long enough to notice and attack her. So, she stayed quiet, watched the motion of its head, and...

With a sharp bang her gun spat out its bullet, and the bit of metal buried itself in the creature's grey-green forehead. The monster fell to the ground dead long before the buzz faded from Belle's ears.

Slipping out of her cover, the twenty-year-old kept an eye out for any other humanoids that might be attracted to the noise. But she saw none; when she glanced at Antonio, in the trees a bit farther away, he gave her the thumbs up.

Dirt and rubble tumbling as she dragged the body bag behind her, Belle knelt by her kill and quickly opened up the large sack. Gloves were already on her hands, but she still took immense care not to touch any of the dribbling blood as she handled the monster. She put the thing inside the bag, zipped it in, and dragged her kill into a battered old building.

A few more of these suckers, and her job would be done for the day.

* * *

"Oi! Francis!"

The owner of the Nourriture qui Sauve restaurant popped his head out of the glassless window. There he could see the hunters hauling their day's work towards the building. Walking just behind Antonio was Belle, standing tall even though she was doing her part to pull the utility trailer behind the group. Her right wrist and hand were wrapped securely in pulling rope, but her left arm was free to wave at Francis.

"Ah, good afternoon, _mon chere_!" he cried, greeting her back with a single wave of his arm. "Have you had a good day of hunting?"

Motioning to her cargo, she grinned and said, "What do you think?"

With a laugh, Francis withdrew from the window and hurried to the back door. Positioning himself just outside, he held the door open as Belle pulled her kills off the trailer and into the building.

Pursing his lips in a whistle, the restaurant owner said, "Yes, I believe you _have_ had a good day of hunting."

Belle laughed, stepping aside so the boys behind her could bring in their haul. "How about you? Good day of cooking?" She leaned back against the wall with a sly look. "Find your secret recipe at last?"

Francis exhaled, though he still smiled. "Still no progress on that front, I'm afraid. I'm still only an astounding cook." Then he heaved a larger sigh, looking a bit less happy. "If I only had better raw materials to work with, I could guarantee everyone in this town would be fat by now. They wouldn't be able to resist—at least, less than they can now."

Belle looked over her shoulder at the accumulating body bags. "Oh, I'm sure there's much better meat out there somewhere."

"I know there's better meat," Francis said matter-of-factly, glancing at the beef-inclusive menu on the far wall. "What I'd like is this meat—" he nudged a body bag with his foot—"not always half-rotted by the time it's of any benefit to eat."

With a shrug, Belle replied, "You win some, you lose some, I guess. At least we can get enough of this stuff to keep the whole town immune."

Seeing this didn't bring the light back to the chef's eyes, the woman smiled and patted him on the head. "But you do excellently with what you have, I promise. If we left your job to someone else, I don't think any of us would eat this junk, plague or not."

At this Francis finally smiled again.

"Speaking of which," Belle continued, slipping around the back counter, "do you have my wages ready?"

"Ah, yes," Francis said, quickly thanking the boys for their contributions and stepping over to the drawers near Belle. Drawing out an airtight sack filled with disorganized pieces of dried meat, he announced, "Two weeks' worth of my finest immunity jerky." He shook his head as he handed the package over. "I still can't imagine how someone with your fine palate can stand to chew so long on this meat, even if I've tampered with it."

Belle shrugged, taking the wages with a thanks. "It's certainly not your finest cooking, but it keeps." Looking down at the package in her hands, she drew in a breath. "And I'll need it to keep for who knows how long."

Francis beheld her with a frown. "Still planning that journey of yours?"

"Of course." Belle leaned back against the counter, propping herself up on her elbows. "I can't just give up on my own little brother."

"But in these sorts of circumstances, and after so long?" Shaking his head, Francis said, "The older sibling should look after the younger ones, but there's only so far we can go."

He looked down for a minute before continuing, "You last saw him halfway across the state, didn't you? Across dangerous terrain, on foot, and you know it would be so easy for you to get lost or hurt..."

"Yes, I know." Belle watched as the other hunters took their pay and closed the door. "I've had years to think it over, Francis. And I just have to go. So," she said abruptly, standing upright with the bag of jerky between her arms and midsection, "thanks for making the jerky for me. I have enough now, so I think I'm going to head out tomorrow."

Though Belle had started towards the door, Francis immediately put himself between her and the exit.

"No, no, no, no, _non_! Tomorrow?" He looked her in the eye though he seemed unable to close his mouth. "_Tomorrow_?"

Belle sighed, giving up on her escape for the moment. "Yes, tomorrow. I've worked my rear off for years here to get enough jerky, enough ammo, and enough other supplies, and I need to go already. The longer I wait, the bigger the chance Claus is..." She shook her head and looked back up at the twenty-six-year-old, her cheery demeanor altogether missing.

Francis opened his mouth but stopped himself, sighing and looking away. "There's really nothing I can say, is there?"

She closed her eyes and smiled softly. "Nope."

"All right," Francis sighed. He paused for a moment before sidling up to her slyly. "But may I at least have a goodbye kiss first?" He winked.

Belle rolled her eyes but laughed. "Sure—why not?"

Francis's grin just began to morph into a pucker when Belle leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. She then deftly sidestepped him and swung the door open.

"Bye, then!" she chimed.

Francis whipped around with a heavy gasp, placing a hand over his heart as if struck. "That was _not_ a proper goodbye kiss—!"

But Belle, laughing, shut the door on him.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Belle started packing her supplies. She was going to have to cram this stuff in her bags pretty hard. The baggage wasn't going to be any bit too light, either.

She could hear metal grating against stone somewhere behind her. Tim, counting out their money on the mostly intact counter yet again. She had a feeling he was only going through their coins so much lately because her leaving made him especially anxious. Just a feeling, though.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Belle started, looking over her shoulder at her older brother.

Tim didn't respond for a moment. Once he finished sliding their coins to one side of the counter, though, he turned around, no cheer in his expression.

"Someone has to pick up your slack while you're gone," he said gruffly, resting his hand on the holster at his waist.

"Thanks," she responded, pausing in her packing to smile at him. His expression didn't change beyond a tiny quirk of an eyebrow, though, so she resumed her business.

"Are you sure you don't want to be there when I finally find Claus, though?" she asked.

"I trust you," the twenty-four-year-old replied, closing his eyes. "We can't just both leave this house, or someone else will take it." A scowl split his face. "Probably make a mess of the place, too."

Belle laughed, shaking her head as she crammed the last of the jerky into the backpack and struggled to zip it partway shut.

Tim watched her silently for a second, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "You couldn't find anyone else to help you, though?"

Belle shrugged, going through the few pieces of clothes in her other bag. "It's a pretty crazy mission, especially for townspeople that are finally a bit safe from all the craziness. And it'd be difficult to find someone else rich enough to get their share of rations before we leave." She threw in her frayed first-aid kit. "Although with all his family's bulls and things, Antonio could probably afford it. I could convince him pretty easily, too—"

"You have my permission to go alone," Tim interrupted bluntly, turning back to the counter.

Belle laughed quietly to herself. There had been some bad blood between Antonio and Tim at the start of things—though, to be honest, Belle hadn't been entirely on Tim's side in that chaos, either—but, even when things were calm, they wouldn't patch up the feud. Antonio seemed fond enough of Tim—as he was of just about everyone—but Belle's brother still couldn't stand a mention of the cowman.

Belle continued packing into the evening. She finished a bit before sunset—good, since they still didn't have consistent electricity, and she wouldn't risk lighting one of their candles when Tim could catch her.

So all of that was done. She just had to get a good night's sleep, and she would be off first thing tomorrow.

The thought made her shiver a bit. She may have considered herself brave, but there was definitely a difference between risking her life just outside the town and miles away from it. Still, there was no way to turn back now. Whatever dangers were ahead, she had to do this. She had to finally know if Claus was still alive.

If only he hadn't been so far away in the first place. But they _had_ to send him to a sleep-away camp so he wouldn't just slave over the next year's schoolwork all summer...

Though none of them knew back then what was going to happen, and there was certainly no way to go back and change it. All Belle could do now was set out and find him. It was going to be tough, and it was perfectly possible he wasn't even alive. But it was also perfectly possible he _was_ alive, and Belle could not for one day longer stand doing nothing while he was in this world without his big sister to watch over him.

And not for one day longer would she do nothing. Just this one last night to rest, and she would finally set off.

Trying to uncurl her clammy fingers, she arranged her supplies until she was positive they looked perfect. With an exhale, she walked to the bedroom, lowered herself onto her pile of tattered blankets, and tried to get some rest.


	2. Gamble

Belle stood regarding the town walls. They were a total mishmash of fence panels—wrought iron and chain-link and plain wood—with car pieces and other stiff junk crammed between the gaps, but they helped protect what remained of the city. With the infected kept out, the townspeople could live outside cramped cellars, have unboarded windows, and even go outside for a leisurely stroll.

What she loved most, though, was being able to trust people here. They were safe enough not to panic, and most of them worked together to make things even safer. Some watched over the fences, making sure the monsters couldn't break in; some shot down the humanoids and helped make them into food so no one could be infected; some did all sorts of other things to make the place feel more like a home than a refugee camp. They had gained a lot of ground in the last four years, that was for sure.

Belle had no idea if she would run into other towns like this on her way. Most of the journey was going to be through wilderness, just in case, but surely a few more cities existed, at whatever size. She didn't know, since there wasn't exactly an intact postal service, or television or Internet broadcasts. Maybe if the plague hadn't hit so hard, she would still have some convenient way of knowing about other places, about Claus's camp.

But that wasn't how things worked anymore. If she wanted to know about a place, a person, she would have to walk there herself. Here's hoping she would make it the whole way.

Shifting the heavy load on her shoulders, Belle stepped towards the low point of the wall. The closest thing to a gate they had or needed, it was climbable but hadn't yet let an infected over.

Unable to see the details on the wall in the dim light, Belle wasn't sure why she came over here so early. She couldn't climb over by herself, and the hunters weren't going to head outside for another hour or so. She was sort of stuck here unless some early morning jogger decided to help her and her heavy baggage over.

But she wasn't banking on that when she said goodbye to Tim. She only knew she wasn't going to get back to sleep, so she had no better option than to get up and do something. She already stopped by the Nourriture qui Sauve for an extra dose of antidote for breakfast—it was actually before Francis had woken up, so she ended up with some subpar food—and there was just no more to do but pace by the "gate" and wish she hadn't woken up so darned early.

As the edge of the sun slipped over the horizon, a call rang out behind the twenty-year-old.

"Belle! Getting ready to leave?"

The blonde turned to see a waving, grinning Antonio hurrying towards her.

She smiled back. "Yeah! You want to be the one to see me off?"

"You bet." Antonio hurried the last of the distance, pistol in its holster slapping against his thigh until he came to a stop. He smiled at Belle for a second longer before turning to the wall and sighing. "It's really time for you to head out, huh?"

Belle nodded, looking through the holes in the fence to the wilderness beyond. "I'll miss you all, but, yes, I really ought to get going." She turned back towards the twenty-five-year-old, both of them giving the other a small smile.

Antonio set himself up to give Belle a boost over the bottom part of the fence. "You know we'll miss you back here, too." He grunted slightly as Belle pushed her foot down on his hands, and he pushed her up. "But I'm sure if I had a little brother out there, I'd have to head out myself."

Belle carefully climbed onto the top of the wall, secured herself, and leaned over, extending a hand for Antonio. "Thanks for understanding."

With a nod, Antonio clasped her hand and started to bend his arm to lift himself. Belle pulled, too, and Antonio reached for the chain-link portion of the wall, climbing to the top by himself. Once he got into a stable position, he gripped Belle's hand again and started to help her down.

"You sure you have everything you need?" he asked.

Belle let him lower her a bit more before she released her grip and dropped to the ground. "Yeah, at least as far as I know. Can't say what all I'll run into."

"True." Antonio positioned himself carefully before dropping over the wall's edge. Belle helped to break his fall, and the two surveyed the area for any humanoids before turning back to look at each other.

"I guess I'm going now," Belle said, picking at her collar. She didn't even try to meet Antonio's gaze.

"I guess so," the twenty-five-year-old responded, rocking back on his heels. He ducked his head a bit to catch her eye and smiled. "You'll be in my prayers. Don't keep me waiting too awfully long for you to get back, all right?"

Belle smiled back. "All right."

Inhaling nervously, Belle took a few steps out into the unsafe ruins of the city and stopped, looking ahead to the unfamiliar trees. She was so caught up in anticipation she didn't notice Antonio beside her until he squeezed her hand and nudged her the slightest bit forward.

"_¡Buena suerte!_" he said, taking a step away from her.

Belle grinned back at him, a twitch in her upper lip. "I hope that was a 'see you' and not a 'goodbye.' "

Antonio chuckled. "Actually, that was a 'good luck,' but if you'd prefer... _¡Nos vemos!_"

"Thanks," Belle laughed. She exhaled, watching Antonio grin at her. Someone she was definitely going to miss while she was out there.

"_Nos vemos_, then," she finished with a wave. Swallowing, she turned around and marched off, not letting herself look back.

* * *

By noon, she had already gone through twelve cartridges. She was doing her best to confuse or hide from the monsters when she came upon them, but she still had to outright kill a dozen of them so far. At this rate, she wouldn't have enough bullets to last her until she got to Hunt.

If the plague was different, that wouldn't be too much of a problem. She was certainly strong enough to combat the rotting creatures with an empty gun or just fists and feet, but neither of those options was very safe. The plague was transmitted through blood, so the closer she was when she killed a monster, the better chance she could get infected. But maybe she could stock up on ammo in some town somewhere. If nothing else, there would probably be some other abandoned guns along her path.

Walking quietly through the grass—as much as she could with all of her gear—she thoroughly investigated a small, shaded area. No monsters, nor signs that any had been there recently. It would probably be safe enough to stop and eat.

Belle set down her heavy bags—half the reason she wanted to stop for a while—and rummaged through one for her trail mix. She would give herself a handful today. Even if she was doing a lot more running around than usual, she couldn't go through this too quickly.

Settling against a tree, she nibbled away at the nuts, fruits, and clumps of oatmeal, her gun ready but over her shoulder. Though without any conversation, it was a nice lunch. She'd rather listen to nothing but the breeze than be interrupted by a couple of monsters.

Licking the crumbs off her hand, Belle put up her bag of trail mix, took one last swig of water, and loaded up again. She couldn't let herself rest too long, after all. She had kept Claus waiting more than long enough.

Rifle at the ready, Belle checked her direction and headed out again.

It wasn't long before the next monster crossed her path. Belle put her rifle butt up against her shoulder before she really took a second to look at the creature. Of the maybe two weeks an infected had to live, this one was in its last days. Its muscles had deteriorated to the point it could barely limp forward—in no time, it wouldn't be able to stand at all—and what was left of the thing's unfeeling skin was so shredded it had to be infected with all sorts of other pathogens. Needless to say, Belle had little to fear as long as she kept far away. Boots crunching over the forest floor, she kept an eye on the dying creature without lowering her guard for others.

The first monster passed out of her sight some ten minutes before she saw another few. They were in better condition, but they hadn't spotted her yet. As long as she kept to the trees and stayed quiet, they would leave her alone.

That was a gamble, though. To be honest, she didn't remember this sort of stuff that well. For the last three years, she had been less concerned about ammo amounts and more concerned about shooting everything down. Before that, during the chaos before the town settled… She couldn't remember many details. It was all too traumatic.

But she still had a feeling she didn't need to use more bullets here. So she stayed quiet, crouching behind a bush just enough to stay hidden without immobilizing herself. Through the leaves she watched the monsters move along, staying in a pack.

If she hadn't been so used to staying out in dangerous territory, she probably wouldn't have noticed the creatures creeping up on her other side. Ignoring for a moment the other group—since they didn't know she was there, they weren't much of a threat yet—she held her breath and looked over her shoulder.

Three monsters that had noticed her were hurrying through the brush. They looked like they hadn't been inhuman for long, but they were already out to infect others. They gnashed their teeth in anticipation, infectious blood from their rotting gums dribbling over their chins.

Belle frowned. The monsters she usually dealt with tended to be farther gone—and slower—than this. She'd have to shoot, since her loads of baggage weren't conducive to her fastest running. The noise would surely draw the other monsters this way—but fine. As of now, she still had enough bullets to shoot them all.

She took aim and fired on the closest of the monsters. It crumpled to the ground quickly, and Belle readied her next shot, aiming for the second creature. Too dumb or too bent on infecting her, it made no attempt to run away and was within a few yards when she shot it. By the time she was ready to fire on the last of the group, its blood would have spattered her if she hadn't drawn to the side after pulling the trigger.

As she sidestepped, she turned around, ejecting the last spent cartridge and reloading. The other four monsters had come at her faster than she thought, but not fast enough to give her anything but an easier shot. She fired on the head of the pack, targeted the next one as she switched ammo, and pulled the trigger. The stupid monster managed to trip over its misplaced feet at about the same time, and the valuable bullet went flying over its head. With a little grunt of frustration, she reloaded and aimed again, hitting the fallen creature before it could right itself.

By now the last two companions were dangerously close. Belle switched out cartridges, backing up. She fired at the closest of the two, her next few steps backwards made quicker by the recoil. The monster crumpled to the ground, its last companion nearly stumbling over it as Belle pulled out the bolt and loaded another bullet. Smacking the ammo into the gun, she took aim, an action that wasn't exactly difficult since the creature was barely a yard away from her gun. She fired as the monster lunged, bullet grazing its crown.

With a gasping breath, Belle leapt back, driving her boot into the humanoid's stomach. The thing stumbled backwards, but by the time she loaded the next cartridge, it had recovered enough to attack again. Jaws wide open, it grabbed at Belle's shirt to pull her in. With a grunt, she twisted herself around to get free, the monster's blood-glazed teeth barely missing her elbow. Thumping a foot into the creature's chest as she came around, she backed up a bit more—just in case—and fired.

Finally the last of the group was dead. Panting, Belle allowed herself to lower the rifle for a moment, rolling her aching shoulder.

The back of her arm brushed against slimy skin.

With a shriek she whipped around, reloading and firing on the monster without bothering to distance herself. The creature was long dead before she realized it was just the all-but-gone infected from earlier. Another waste of a bullet.

Taking a deep breath, Belle looked all around her as she pulled out the bolt. Nothing in sight, and certainly nothing close enough to spook her. She slipped in a new cartridge, shook herself a bit, and withdrew her compass. Still trembling, she headed out again.

If she could have put any oomph into it, she would have slapped herself for being so shaken up. Of course, for the past three years she always had other hunters to warn her if something was close or shoot it themselves before it got that far. Even with a gun and some form of immunity to the plague, being outside the walls like this was guaranteed to keep her paranoid. But there was no helping that. She was the one that decided to go on alone. She would just have to deal with it.

Taking deep breaths but keeping her fingers near the trigger, she walked on.


	3. Wild

Author's Note: Hello, readers hiding in the shadows! First, I'd like to say thanks for reading and for the watches and faves! Second, if you'd like to leave a review at any point, I really wouldn't mind... I wouldn't put this on the Internet if I didn't want feedback, eh?

* * *

Belle's journey didn't become much smoother as it progressed. The first night wasn't bad—she was able to stay far enough up a tree to deter any ground-bound predators—but she was shooting down monsters not far into the next morning.

There were a lot more of these things around than she had thought there would be. Certainly the unwary were still being infected—especially if they hadn't come upon the "cure"—but with how quickly the monsters died off, surely they couldn't be as numerous as they seemed. Then again, surely the plague couldn't have spread so effectively in the first place, and surely everything couldn't have started to crumble so quickly...

Not letting herself think about that, Belle kept walking, still gnawing on her immunity jerky for the day. A few fauna-strangled roads passed underfoot, but most of her journey for that day was just woods and monsters. The next day, she made it to a spot of slightly more urban territory. It wasn't exactly a town, just a faded house with a few dilapidated buildings at its sides, but she still hurried through. Nothing lived there, monsters included, and to say the least it gave her chills. So many dead.

A while after passing what had been someone's home, she realized there were probably some valuable supplies back there she could have tapped into. But she wouldn't allow herself to turn back at any point, and to be honest she was only a bit regretful. She could feel more up to raiding the next time she found a house, anyway. She wasn't really lacking in supplies yet.

So she went on walking, venturing further through the woody territory. There were still quite a few monsters, but she was all too ready to just shoot them at a distance whether they might notice her or not. At this rate, she was going to run out of bullets, anyway, so she might as well make decent progress while she had some. It was also a lot harder to be snuck up on when every monster within a such-and-such-mile radius was dead.

By the third day Belle was really starting to wish she had brought more food. There just hadn't been enough room among the bullets, and she thought it wasn't going to be that big a deal. It wasn't as if she'd had better rations when the plague first broke out, and even the town didn't always have plenty of food for everyone, at least as far as non-monster meat went. But she really craved something beyond a bit of trail mix or immunity jerky.

As it turned out, that afternoon she had a chance to do so. Though she wasn't willing to use bullets for game—she wasn't as good a shot when the prey had some sort of intelligence—she came upon some large houses in a wide estate. They definitely didn't look secure enough for anyone to still be living in them, but that didn't mean nothing salvageable waited inside.

Trying to ignore the shudder slinking down her back, Belle entered a house, looking over the area for any monsters before going through cabinets and drawers. This place had already been milked dry. Most likely all of the area was, but perhaps some nice little scrap had been left somewhere. In a more urgent situation—whether fleeing the house in the first place or coming to raid it with monsters all around—it would have been far from impossible to overlook something.

Belle went through a few bedside tables—holding midnight snacks, maybe?—before leaving the house empty-handed, checking for monsters again, and entering the next building. It was also empty, but the next house had a few viable bags of oatmeal and some dried beans scattered across a shelf. Whoever had been here had certainly left in a hurry.

Shoving the oatmeal in her backpack and the beans in a cargo pocket, she looked over the area to find she was still the only biped around. It was a bit suspicious, but there had been lulls in the infected populations as she had gone on. She was just staying in one of the dead spots a little longer this time.

The next house still had boards nailed tightly over the windows, so Belle had to try the door. It was locked. She wouldn't be surprised if this place hadn't been raided; whoever may have gone through the previous houses had kind of slacked off at the last one, after all. Even if an opportunist hadn't gone out the front door, whatever door the original family left through would probably still be unlocked.

Excited at the prospect of more new food—hopefully they had some imperishables—Belle searched until she found an unlocked door at the side of the building. Slowly opening it, she stepped into what seemed to be the kitchen and made sure no monsters were in the room before she started going through drawers.

Whoever had been in this house definitely took things with them, but there was actually a decent amount left. One drawer had a whole assortment of gelatin mix that had only very recently expired. Belle doubted they would make her ill, and low-quality dessert would still be a treat after a while without. As long as this only took water, she could make it pretty easily, and maybe just leaving it out in the cool night would suffice for putting it in a refrigerator.

As she was squinting at the too-small instructions, she heard a faint sort of twang. Just as her pulse began to rise in anticipation, a searing pain went through her abdomen so suddenly she would have crumpled to the ground if she hadn't caught herself on the counter. Drawing in a sharp breath, she pushed herself up and looked down to see not a monster but a stick with flaps, jutting out from the front of her abdomen. An... arrow? Yes, probably an arrow. Going straight through all the vital stuff in her midsection by the looks of it. That—that—that didn't sound good...

Though standing still, Belle somehow lost her footing and went to the ground, everything turning oddly fuzzy. She barely noticed the figure drawing towards her before she passed out.

* * *

Though Belle was awake, she was drowsy. Her eyelids were immovable, but she had the feeling she should probably wake up. But she was so tired. Sleeping just a little longer wouldn't hurt anything, would it?

Or maybe it would. Something still niggled at the back of her mind, and sweat beaded her forehead for reasons unrelated to temperature. What had happened, and where was she? Now that she thought about it, this didn't feel like her usual pile of blankets. Ah—right, right, she was out travelling. But when did she end up on a couch? Although... It was awfully comfy. She could rest here a while longer...

At some point in her daze, Belle started to hear a voice. She could make out words but could not understand them. It all seemed like some strange dream she'd forget a few minutes after waking. One thing she could distinguish after a moment of listening was that the male voice had a rather delicious British accent. Yes, this was certainly a dream, though a nice one at that...

She was not sure exactly when it was she really awoke—most likely she had dozed off somewhere in the midst of her haze—but she soon felt a sharp ache in her midsection. At once she remembered the arrow and opened her eyes. If she was going to have any hope of moving closer to Claus, she couldn't keep the thing in there.

As her vision cleared, she struggled to tilt her head enough to look at her abdomen. Nothing seemed to be sticking out any more, but a wave of dizziness cut her glimpse short. Whatever had happened, she was still far from well.

What _had_ happened, though? She couldn't really remember anything after getting shot, aside from a level of panic that was really rather shameful for someone who'd been through the apocalypse. For the record, though, she hadn't had a lethal-looking arrow wound before. If something was going to make her panic, that was a decent candidate. And—why was she thinking about this anyway?

Trying to focus, she closed her eyes for a moment and blinked them open. It was fairly dark, though she could see a thin strip of daylight shooting across her thighs. She still seemed to be in the same clothes, but her bags—and gun—were gone, and something that looked like dappled curtains was wrapped tightly around her stomach. She was on a couch, a blood-red, leathery one. It had a few normal-looking wrinkles as well as some torn-open gaps, a couple of them sewed back together.

"Oh! Are you awake?"

Belle would have jumped to the ceiling if the throbbing in her stomach didn't keep her from moving.

"Er—sorry to startle you."

Belle tried to sit up a little, bristling, as a figure approached. Seeing as it could talk—in that hot accent, no less—it obviously wasn't a monster, but strangers weren't particularly comforting, either.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized this was probably the one who had patched her up—acting this defensive had to be a bit rude. Though he could have just as easily been the one who shot her, in which case extra caution was totally acceptable. At any rate, she couldn't help but feel queasily uncomfortable.

The man stepped close enough to the weak firelight at her side for Belle to actually see him. He was in dress clothes, though the white shirt's sleeves were missing—they looked hemmed off—and the trousers were converted similarly to shorts. Encircling his waist was a stiff, brown strap, a tall bag hanging from it at the man's right. A darker strap went from his shoulder to his left side. Some sort of half-sleeve that still smelled faintly of leather was secured around his left forearm.

The man himself was about average height, and he would be almost scrawny if it weren't for the size of his shoulders and upper arms. A wild shock of light hair bushed out all around his head, while his dark green eyes flicked away from her the second she saw them.

That was all she could make out at first, but he continued to the fireplace, putting a bit more wood in. In a few moments the room was lit up enough she could see his face when he turned to her. Ignoring the hair, he was really rather handsome, although—were those things on his face actually his eyebrows?

Just as she was considering the possibility he for some reason had pieces of a fur coat glued over his eyes, he decided to stop staring at her and say something.

"Hello," the twenty-three-year-old started tentatively. With Belle's gaze adjusted to meet his, he fussed with his collar and cleared his throat. "Er... Well, I'm really sorry about shooting you," he said quickly, looking off to the side. "I went ahead and tried to fix it up. Um—the arrow went all the way through, so I just unscrewed the head and took the whole thing out. Some organ or other looked a bit torn, so I sewed that up along with the, er, outside skin, and... I don't know—maybe there was some more damage, but I didn't really want to cut anything else up. That seemed a little invasive when I haven't actually met you. Oh!" He stuck out a hand. "My name's—um—Arthur!"

Belle looked at him for a second. "I'm Belle," she responded slowly, reaching to shake. Arthur's hand remained as motionless as an asphyxiated fish for a moment before he seemed to remember what he was supposed to do next. After three quick shakes, he released her.

"Um, nice to meet you, then," said Arthur, rubbing his hands together. "So, er, I'm certainly not a physician, but you do still seem to be alive, so that's generally a good sign. Um... Are you feeling all right, then?"

"More or less," Belle answered, feeling oddly sleepy all of a sudden. Her eyelids closed of their own accord, but she blinked them back open.

"Um, once again, I'm really sorry about shooting you. Not, uh, exactly the best way to greet a guest—oh!" With that, he jumped a bit, scurrying through an open doorway to the kitchen.

"May I get you anything?" he called. "Um... Would you like some tea? No—why am I saying that? I haven't had tea in years. God, I haven't had tea in years... Er—do you like water?" He smacked himself in the forehead. "No, that's a stupid question. Um, what I mean is, _would_ you like some water?" After that he finally paused for breath, looking over his shoulder at the woman on the couch.

Belle raised and lowered her eyebrows a bit to stay awake. "Yes, water actually sounds really nice."

"Okay, good! I can do that."

Arthur poured two cups of water and quickly ferried them to the living room, handing Belle her cup. Tired as she was, her throat and mouth were dry enough to keep her awake if only for a drink. The water didn't taste particularly clear, but it still soothed her throat. Although she spluttered a little—she was still horizontal—she emptied the cup by the time Arthur was two sips into his.

He didn't notice this for a second but soon offered her a second drink. She handed over her empty cup gratefully and, as Arthur went to get her refill, tried to sit up a bit to make things easier. She only fell back to the couch with a yelp.

"What happened?" Arthur stepped backwards to see her through the doorway. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," she responded weakly, putting a hand over her stomach as if it would stop the ache. "Just tried to sit up, and it didn't work so well."

"Ah." Arthur winced, looking down. It was a moment before the cup in his hand reminded him what he was doing, but he then scurried back to the couch and set her water down by her. She was still reclined.

"Maybe it will, um, be easier if I help?" he started.

Belle nodded, and he helped to move her upright, guiding her like she would shatter to bits if he pushed too hard. She still had to suck in a sharp breath.

"Sorry, again," he mumbled.

"It's okay," Belle responded automatically. Actually, it wasn't—she certainly wouldn't get any closer to Claus laid up like this. At least Arthur did seem genuine about regretting putting an arrow through her.

"How exactly did you end up shooting me, if you don't mind me asking?" she asked, starting on her second cup.

"Oh." Arthur blinked, running a hand through his mess of hair with some difficulty. "Well, I just saw a figure going into the house and shot immediately. I wasn't expecting a lady. Er, I wasn't even expecting a human. Quite honestly I had got to thinking I was the last man alive."

"Huh." Belle started to think about that, but her mind was fogging over again.

"Belle?" Arthur lightly nudged her as her form went slack. "Belle?"

But she had dozed off.


	4. Hospitable

Seeing that Belle had dozed off, Arthur took her cup from her hand slowly so as not to rouse her and adjusted her to a more comfortable sleeping position. She tensed a bit—it still must have hurt—but she didn't open her eyes. With a sigh, he brushed some hair out of her face and squatted next to her, watching.

He really had no idea what to do with her. It was enough of a shock to find another human, but a lady? And had he been alone so long he didn't remember what an average woman looked like, or was she really that pretty? He found himself leaning towards the second option, admittedly mostly because he liked to think he hadn't gone quite that mad.

Still, it was rather impossible to say he was still at his sanest, especially after today. What, he didn't even remember how to give a handshake? How to say his _name_? Even if he hadn't exactly practiced social skills much when he had been altogether the only man around for—how long was it, even? Three years? Four? More? He had lost track.

At any rate, none of this was good for his mental health. Apparently fate wasn't satisfied with however much the isolation had already wrecked his mind. All within twenty-four hours he managed to shoot a lady—one nice-looking enough she could have completely thrown him off before any of this—and find out that other humans indeed existed. What's more, he had to make sense of it all in infuriating little patches when his guest was actually awake and then drive himself madder wondering about it all as she slept. If living through the apocalypse hadn't driven him completely insane, that would be fixed soon.

Taking as deep breaths as was possible, the twenty-three-year-old sipped away at his water. It tasted fine—he had built the filters for it himself, after all—but it wasn't tea. Oh, why did he have to start thinking about tea again? Now that little hole in him he'd forgotten about was gaping open again. Why couldn't there just be some tea about in the first place? That would more easily fix things, without him having to hope he wouldn't suddenly remember some forever-lost aspect of his life. And he would probably recover some of his concentration skills with the stuff, because he had been beyond scatterbrained since he went through the last bag—ugh, his last taste had to be from a teabag, too—and certainly it would have been nice to be able to focus on things again.

Arthur circled the couch, his feet dragging over a path of faded and torn carpet, before deciding he had to do something to keep his mind off all of this. He could go shoot down some game or zombies, but that would leave Belle vulnerable.

At one point in his circle Arthur noticed the box of gelatin that Belle had dropped when he shot her. While he had mopped up the blood, the box was still sitting there on the ground. He quickly stepped over and picked the thing up, sliding a drawer open before pausing.

Considering she tried to take it, Belle had to be interested in the dessert. Perhaps he should make some for her? It seemed like a hospitable thing to do. He hadn't really cooked anything in a long while, aside from roasting meat, but he had been an excellent chef before. No doubt he retained some of those skills.

Flipping the box in his palm, he looked over the instructions on the back. One cup boiling water, and one cup cold. That was quite a bit of his rations for the day, but it would be worth it.

Arthur set up a cup to go over the fire and poured the cup that was to be cold. He wasn't sure what to do about the latter. The refrigerator wasn't exactly still operating, nor did he have any ice. Well... They added rock salt to make ice colder for ice cream, right? And it wasn't as if water and ice were different substances, so that would do.

He looked over the house for rock salt and found a hefty bag of the stuff in the garage. Bringing it into the kitchen, he went through all of the measuring cups a few times before giving up on which one was best. He just threw in a good handful of salt before setting the water on the counter to cool and putting the bag back in the garage.

With a glance at Belle to make sure she was still all right, he walked over to the fireplace to check on the water. Not boiling yet. He went back to check the other cup, dipping his finger in. Not cooled yet.

After another trip to the living room, he decided it would be a lot easier if the two were in the same place. The kitchen seemed like the place to do his cooking, so he went over to the oven. Atop it was a gas stove, but he didn't have anything with which to fuel it. It was open to the air—surely some wood would do? And he even had some lit branches in the fireplace.

He prepared to ferry the cup over first but grabbed the heated surface with his bare hands. Swearing sharply—then turning to find that Belle was thankfully still asleep—he snatched his hands away and waved them in the air to cool them. Returning to the kitchen, he grabbed some ratty pot-holders and used them to get the cup over. He set the water on the stove, then took a burning stick that was long enough to keep him from burning himself again. Propping the flaming end under the grates, he wrung his tingling hands together and went to check on the other cup of water. It certainly felt cooler to the touch this time. The other cup wasn't boiling just yet.

He decided to check on Belle again. She was still sleeping peacefully, though one of her hands was curled up not far from her wound. The makeshift bandage was definitely bloodstained, but it all looked like old blood. Weren't these things supposed to be changed out? But how often?

Deciding it quite possibly was time to change them, Arthur started to unwrap the curtains but paused. He should probably find new dressings first. Well, these were the living room curtains. There were still curtains in the kitchen, right?

He turned his head to find that indeed there were curtains in the kitchen. They also seemed to be on fire.

He tightened the bandage again a bit too quickly and stood. Hurrying through the kitchen doorway, he saw that somehow the fire had gone down the stick to the hand rags on the oven handle. How on earth the stuff jumped to the curtains above the stove he was not entirely sure. Still, he should probably put it out.

Since the cold water was on the opposite counter, he went for the closer option and grabbed the cup of hot water. He managed to immediately dump a good deal of it over the hand rags even though the plastic had somewhat liquefied and was spreading over and burning his fingers.

Swearing again, much louder this time, he tried hard as he could to shake the plastic off, but it was stuck to his hand. The continuous cursing was rather difficult to keep up when every smoke-filled inhale demanded a cough.

"Is everything okay?"

Arthur froze at the sleepy voice and stepped back to see Belle stirring, though her eyes remained closed.

"I'm all right," he hollered hoarsely, trying his best to ignore the scorching plastic in his hand. "The kitchen..." he glanced back at the flames and grey fog—"sort of happens to be on fire, but I promise I have everything under control!"

"Okay," Belle murmured, too asleep to really respond.

Stifling another cough, Arthur turned his attention back to the kitchen. The fire was still limited to the curtains at the moment. Unfortunately, he had dumped all of the hot water, and he really didn't want to risk the cold water, too, if he hoped to make Belle that gelatin. The most logical next step, then, was to go to the floor and try to scoop up some of the used water into the cup molded into his three-fingered grip. It wasn't particularly efficient, but he did manage to get about an eighth of the cup full, and that he dumped on the curtains.

After another two cycles of this, the last of the fire had finally disappeared, leaving Arthur coughing in the cloud of smoke. He waved to clear the air before focusing on the hot plastic attached to his hand. With a series of stifled grunts, he struggled to peel the cup off him and, after some time, unfortunately succeeded.

He at least had the presence of mind to curse into his arm after the skin on his fingers had ripped off. The warped cup dropped to the ground as he, nearly in tears, ran over to make sure Belle hadn't heard him. It would do him in completely if he'd sworn in front of a lady.

She didn't seem to have heard. She looked nearly asleep again, peaceful and beautiful. And, bugger it, he was going to make her that gelatin she wanted!

Squinting through the smoke, he salvaged what was left of the recipe: the cold water and the little box that started it all. The first step was apparently to add the mix to the boiling water. Well, that wasn't going to happen. The cold water would just have to do.

Setting the cup of water on the counter, he stirred in the powder with his left hand, since for some reason the owner of the house had taken the utensils with him. It didn't mix all that well at first, but he was supposed to keep swirling it for two minutes. Or perhaps he just wasn't mixing hard enough. He put a little more oomph into his stirring, and a good bit of the mixture sloshed out onto the floor. With a lighter swear, he found an unburnt bit of dish rag and mopped up the mess. Tossing the rag outside, he returned to swirling the gelatin for a moment before he realized he probably used up the two minutes with that distraction.

He checked the box, which said to stir in the cold water, but he had already done that. Next was to refrigerate for four hours. That wasn't going to happen, either, so he figured all he could do was add another handful or two of rock salt and wait. He did just that—scooping the rough stuff up in his uninjured hand, of course—set the cup on the counter, and resolved to put the ordeal out of his mind till the gelatin was done.

Although, with most of the skin ripped away from the insides of his thumb and his next two fingers, that probably wasn't going to be that easy. What was he supposed to do for that, anyway? Again, not a physician. Perhaps his only choice was to tough it out. He would be decent at that, at least. Though it certainly wouldn't be fun shooting like this.

Flicking his hands a bit—though it ended up hurting him more—he wandered back into the living room and squatted next to the couch to watch Belle again. Before he could think about something other than her looks, her eyelids cracked open, and she rolled her eyes over to look at him. Feeling like some sort of stalker, he scooted back a bit before realizing that wasn't particularly helping things.

"Er, I, uh, thought you were awake," he said quickly, clearing his throat, which felt and sounded full of gravel. "Um, good morning. Again."

With a high-pitched yawn, Belle shuffled her shoulders in a stretch. "Good morning again to you, too," she said, swallowing. After a moment of getting her eyes opened, she squinted at Arthur, then at the ceiling. "Do I smell smoke?"

"Um, yes—no. Um... It's a surprise."

"Not a well-kept one, then," she said with a grin. "But, really—smoke? For me? You shouldn't have."

Arthur just stared at her for a second as he processed the words. Belle stared back seriously before bursting into giggles.

"It's called sarcasm," he said, stifling her laughter.

Arthur bolted upright, bristling like an indignant cat. "I-I know what sarcasm is! Thank you!"

Belle just broke down laughing again. Despite the fact that he of all people not easily recognizing sarcasm was quite terrifying, he really couldn't concentrate on his own problems with her giggling like that. Why did she have to be so cute? It was frustrating. Very, very, ridiculously frustrating.

She calmed down a bit in her laughing and looked over at Arthur again.

He found himself smiling back.


	5. Awkwardly

Belle wasn't sure exactly when she fell asleep again, but she wasn't conscious again until early evening.

Arthur was still watching her. Even if she knew he was just stunned at the sight of another human being, she had to admit it sort of creeped her out. But at least she had someone to protect her while she was down, right?

How long was she going to be down, though? It had already been twenty-four hours, and her middle still hurt too much for her to lean forward. She felt a bit less light-headed—maybe—but other than that, she couldn't say there were any signs of healing.

Though she knew the journey was going to be dangerous, she hadn't really anticipated something like this. Needless to say, she didn't make preparations for some bushy-haired fellow in an otherwise abandoned area to shoot her through the abdomen when she was first deciding how much food and iodine to take. Speaking of which, she hadn't eaten today, had she? That would be a decent reason as to why she was so hungry.

Tilting her head towards Arthur, she started, "I'm hungry." A yawn cut her off before she could ask for her backpack.

"Oh!" The man perked up. "Well, actually... Hold on, one moment." He jumped to his feet and scurried over to the kitchen. Belle couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but she was still relieved. If he had something for her to eat, even just this once, that would be one set of rations she wouldn't have to worry about.

To her surprise, he returned holding only a cup. Maybe he was just getting her more water? She actually was still quite thirsty, so that wasn't a bad thing, either.

"So, um," the twenty-three-year-old started, drumming his fingertips on the side of the cup, "I saw that you seemed interested in some of the gelatin, so, er, yes! Here you are!"

"Oh!" She was pleasantly surprised. He must have just not had a bowl to use for it. Considering the states of most houses in the area, this was entirely possible. Yet despite that, he still went to the trouble to make the gelatin. "Thank you!"

Arthur carefully transferred the cup to her hands, and she looked inside, pausing. This didn't... quite look like gelatin. There was tinted water, lumps of powder, and... was that _salt_ at the bottom?

She realized Arthur was still watching her, and she wasn't sure what to do about that. This mess did not seem at all edible, especially to her, but he was being such a nice host...

"Is something wrong?" Arthur had such a pitiful look on his face Belle could not at all respond at first. "Um, that _is_ the box you were holding, right?"

"Yes," she got out, grinning nervously. "I just... I don't know—I feel weird about eating dessert first. Here, I have some food in my backpack, if that's still sitting somewhere."

Crisis averted: Arthur perked up, nodding. "Yes, here—I'll fetch it." He hurried around to the other side of the couch and picked up the rucksack. Though it was still quite stuffed, he carried it in front of Belle without trouble. She picked out a piece of jerky—even if Arthur was here, she couldn't absolutely guarantee she wouldn't get bitten somehow—and started to gnaw on it.

Arthur stared at her for a minute until she awkwardly met his gaze. He immediately looked away, getting back to his feet. "Yes! Um... Would you, er, like any more water? With that?"

Trying not to wince as the seasoning slowly melted away from her meal, Belle nodded. Her host fetched her a cup of water, and later another. He would definitely have to head out to the lake tomorrow, or pray for rain. Either option seemed dubious.

Belle finished her meal, swallowing the last fibers with a bit of a grimace. Since Arthur was still sitting next to her, it seemed appropriate to start some sort of conversation.

"So..." She took a swig of water. "How did you end up here?"

"Here?" Arthur repeated.

"Judging from your accent, you weren't born here, were you?"

"Oh—no, no. Um, I do have some family here—mother's side—quite an interesting lot, actually. Half the reason we would come over here rather than vice-versa was that drywall and things tended to get obliterated somehow wherever they were. They're all dead now, actually, but—what was I talking about?"

He gave Belle a questioning look for a second before shaking his head. "How I'm here, right, right. Um, well, I came over to Austin for university. And I was still here when it broke out. Fled in one direction or another—God, the place was swarming with zombies in no time—and ended up here. The family that lived here—called the Cates, I'm supposing from all the fancy little frames and things on the walls—had already either died or taken their most important things and fled. And, um, well, here we are today. Ta-da."

Belle nodded, sipping at her water. Swallowing, Arthur ventured to ask how she had ended up here. She told him everything about the journey—excepting the complete freak-out over one of the monster attacks—and he took it in, nodding a bit too enthusiastically a bit too often. She gave him some time to process things once she finished—she had mentioned the town, after all—but he didn't seem that eager to ask her more questions about it. At some point she began to wonder if he had somehow already forgotten what she just told him, but she didn't want to say anything.

After a while of not-talking, she tried to sit up a bit. And while it wasn't really a topic of conversation, she finally broke the silence.

"Where's the restroom?"

Arthur recoiled. "Why on earth would you want to go in there?" He gave her a look before seeming to actually think about it. "Oh. Er... Well, it's not as if any of them are, er, operable..." He furrowed his brow. "Do they have running water where you live?"

Belle shuffled her shoulders, wincing from the wave it sent through her torso. "To some degree, yes. At least the sewer systems are up." She looked up at the ceiling, biting her lip. This was going to make things more difficult, with her condition. "So... Can you... carry me outside, I guess?"

Arthur looked at her like she had just said she'd been infected.

"I could try to walk," she said quickly, starting to push herself further into a sitting position but grunting in pain.

"No!" Arthur responded, taking a step towards her and supporting her carefully. Wow, their faces were quite close right now. "Er, I mean, um, no. No, it's, um, no problem. I can... I can carry you, and all. Um, yes."

"Okay, good." Belle carefully bent her knees to make herself easier to pick up. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"No, no. I—well, I'm the one that put you in this condition. So, er..." After a wild moment of hyperventilation, Arthur got a hold of himself and carefully picked her up. She inhaled sharply but relaxed a bit once he was holding her more stably against him.

"Outside, then," Arthur said, his voice somewhere between breathless and high-pitched. It was such a peculiar sound Belle had to snigger a bit. He didn't hear.

Only when he stepped outside did she have another reason to laugh, though she still suppressed it somewhat. The sun was close enough to the horizon that its rays were rather orange, but Arthur's cheeks were plainly red. She guessed it wasn't from the teensy bit of exercise.

This time he heard her giggling. Still walking, he looked down at her face and, after a moment's inability to speak, stammered, "What?"

Belle grinned. "Just—you."

He gave her a questioning look before flicking his gaze back ahead of him.

"But really, Arthur," she started, getting his attention, "why are you blushing so much?"

He didn't really respond, though he did look in her eyes. She swung out her free arm a bit as if to stretch and smiled at him.

"Does being so close to me—" she snapped her arm forward, tilting his head so that their noses nearly touched, and regarded him with half-closed eyes—"make you uncomfortable?"

At that Arthur's knees gave out, sending him lurching forward.

"Oh, cr—don't faint!" Belle yelped, bracing for impact. As if compelled to follow her command, Arthur managed to right himself, though he just sort of stood there, knees bent, staring blankly into the distance for some time.

Regardless of the sudden shot of adrenaline from the near-collapse and the ache in her midsection, Belle snickered once before dissolving into mad giggles to the point she had to fight for breath. At some point during this, Arthur slowly stood back up and resumed walking, though the unresponsive look hadn't quite gone from his face.

"Oh, gosh," Belle sighed, a few last giggles trailing off. "I really shouldn't laugh so much when I have to go."

Arthur nodded vacantly, walking onward. Belle, feeling tired but not particularly sleepy, watched ahead of them as well. After a second of observation, she smiled.

"Heading into the sunset and everything, huh?" she commented, grinning up at him.

"Look! Bushes!" he blurted out, hurrying ahead though the air moving over his raw fingers hurt like mad.

Belle snorted, trying not to get laughing again, as the two neared the edge of some poorly-kept flower garden. Somewhat-matching, overgrown curves of bushes were on each side, and Arthur was hightailing it to the patch on the right. He came up to it panting and looked down at the woman in his arms. Though he was still a confusing mix of woozy and panicked, he had enough control over himself to set her down carefully inside the curve. She wobbled into a squatting position, wincing and putting a hand over her abdomen.

He cleared his throat, pacing away nervously. "I'll, uh, make sure that, um, nothing comes."

"Thanks."

Trying to take deep breaths, Arthur pivoted around, surveying the area to make sure nothing was coming. There was nothing as far as he could see. Good, because between the stress and the state of his right hand, he wasn't sure he was quite able to string or shoot at the moment.

That was going to be rather bad, wasn't it? His main source of food was things he shot down, so he wasn't exactly going to be well-fed until his fingers started to feel better. Then again, he hadn't eaten today, had he? Hm. He hadn't really noticed, with all of the fuss.

As far as zombies, he didn't usually have to worry about them as long as he stayed in this area. Only if he went out towards the lake did he need to keep a strict lookout, and—oh. He was running short on water, wasn't he? Lovely. Though it could always rain. Possibly. He wouldn't get his hopes up. Things could get rather troublesome if the sky stayed clear, though...

"Arthur? Ready to go?"

"Oh!" He turned. "Um, yes."

Belle pulled the bottom of her shirt down snug over her hips and, having waddled away from the bushes a bit, prepared to be picked up. Arthur stepped over, taking deep breaths again, and shakily scooped her up. She was still a bit amused by his nervousness, though she didn't outright laugh this time. To be honest, she was getting pretty sleepy now. The sun had almost set, anyway, so that was far from unacceptable...

By the time Arthur had passed back into the house, Belle was asleep in his arms. It was a bit more comfortable for him somehow. He could just watch her without worrying what she would think about it, or feeling like he had to say or do something. Or worry about her flirting like that. That—that was just... He didn't know. Cruel. It wasn't as if it gave him any... terrible feelings—very much it didn't—but at any rate he didn't like making a complete fool of himself. Especially in front of _her_. And with everything else happening these days, it was a perfect time to be having _girl_ problems, too...

With a soundless sigh, he carefully laid her down on the couch and, in case it got cooler overnight, pulled a blanket off the edge of the couch and over her. Slipping on his jacket, he walked back, locked the side door, and returned to sit by her side for the night.


	6. Water

Though he had forgotten as to why a few times during the night, Arthur waited for Belle to wake before he tried to go out for water. She didn't start to stir until a bit past sunrise. Lightly pulling the blanket off her—it was beginning to warm up in here, anyway—he backed away a bit, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

After some time, Belle drifted to wakefulness. Shifting her feet—as usual, they were up on the couch's armrest—she stretched and found that Arthur was indeed watching over her again.

"Do you ever sleep?" she asked with a yawn, flinching when her stretching twisted her abdomen a bit.

"Er, probably," Arthur replied, staring at her. He had something else planned to say to her, but... Urgh! What was _wrong_ with his mind these days?

Belle worked to keep a smile on her face. He really needed to stop gaping at her all of the time.

"Would you mind grabbing me some more water?" she finally started. Even if the request was just to break the awkwardness, her mouth really was quite dry.

"Oh!" As if not expecting her to show more signs of life, Arthur jumped, tugging at his collar and nodding. "Um, right. One moment."

He scurried to the kitchen, getting a cup and carefully filling it from the bottom drum of his filter system. The thin stream from the punch-stained spout finally reminded him what his plans for the day were. He bobbed his knees rapidly as the cup filled and then rushed the water over to Belle.

"We don't have much more of that left," he said as she started to drink. "I'll go ahead to the lake today for more, if that's all right with you." Her eyes went from the cup to him for a second, and he looked down at the shredded toes of his shoes. "So, um, your gun. Uh, do you think you can shoot if, um, somehow someone comes in here while I'm gone?"

With her elbows, Belle carefully nudged herself up against the back armrest. "Yeah. Or as long as I'm awake."

Arthur inhaled sharply. In her state, that was actually a problem, wasn't it? "Well, uh, I can set up some loud things by the door. Would that help?"

"Good idea." Belle rolled her shoulders back as Arthur started rummaging through the living room shelves. He emptied one side of the television cabinet before she added, "It would also be nice if I had my gun."

"Oh!" Dropping a handful of DVD cases, Arthur popped to his feet and hurried behind the couch. Retrieving her rifle, he swung it over the sofa and held it above her. He didn't quite let go once she put her hands on it.

"Um, you're not going to shoot me with it, right?" he asked.

Belle looked up at him with a smile. "Yes, that does seem to be a problem around these parts, doesn't it?"

"In my home? Never!" he replied with an exaggerated insulted gasp. "Really, though—Er, I don't mean to say you're a terrible person, and I, um, very much think you're not, but people haven't exactly been that trustworthy in all of this even when, uh, they were still in the general area. You'll, er, have to forgive me for being paranoid, but there is a reason I took it off you in the first place."

Belle rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to shoot you." She tugged at the weapon with a sly grin. "If I wanted to take your things, all I'd have to do is more flirting and you'd be out cold on the floor, anyway."

"Ha, ha," Arthur deadpanned—although she certainly had a point—as he let go of the rifle. She lowered it to herself with a thanks.

"I, um, will head out, then." He paused. "After the noise trap. Yes! I need to do that first."

After a bit of rummaging, he got together enough clattering things to put by the one unlocked, unboarded door. Dumping them near the entrance, he fetched a plastic bucket for the water, setting it down as well. Finally he got out his bow, carefully gripping the loose string in his raw fingers with a grimace.

"Here's hoping I can actually string and shoot the thing like this," he muttered to himself, setting up the bow and looping the string over the near end. Even that was enough to make him hiss, and when he tried to secure the bowstring to the other end, he had to let go in the middle of it, swearing into his arm as he teared up. After making sure he didn't damage his weapon with that, he glanced over at Belle. This time she was staring at him.

"Er—did you hear that?" he started, taking a subconscious step back.

"Not really?" Belle laughed weakly before trailing off, frowning a bit. "Are you all right?"

"Um, yes, yes." Arthur blew on his hand. "Just not that pleasant handling things with skinned fingers."

Belle cringed. "How did you skin your fingers?"

"Oh?" Arthur glanced at her. "Um—hunting accident. Yes." Or inadvertently grabbing hot plastic, but that sounded a bit less intelligent.

Realizing the memory was making him wince, he looked away aloofly and shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you have anything to put on it?" Belle started, shifting her shoulders.

Arthur gave her a querying look. "Put on it?"

"Ointment, or anything."

"Oh. No, nothing of that sort."

"Here," Belle started, trying to reach for her backpack but unable to do so. Arthur hurried over, moving the bag towards her, and she shuffled through its contents.

"I brought it for cleaning water, but you've been giving me enough I can definitely spare some," she said, pulling out a little bottle of tincture of iodine. "I don't think it'll make it feel any better, but it should at least help keep infection away."

She handed the iodine to him, and he took it with his uninjured fingertips.

"Are you sure?" he started, slowly turning the bottle in his hand.

"Yeah, of course." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't think it would do that much good with my wound, anyway, and if I get an infection, I have some antibiotic tablets that are still good. I can spare the iodine, I promise."

After some time, he nodded. "Thanks." He unscrewed the cap, pausing for a second before he tried to drip some over his index finger. Inhaling sharply, he let the liquid slide over the raw skin. It didn't get easier from there—having the stuff on all three fingers made him tense up like he was burning them all over again, but he survived. Screwing the lid on after a few failed tries, he placed the iodine back in the rucksack.

Standing back up, he shifted his weight between his feet for a moment. He had been doing something else a moment ago, hadn't he? His eyes wandered all around the room for a minute before he caught Belle's eye.

"Still planning to get more water?" she started drowsily.

Arthur smacked the side of his leg. "Yes! Yes, I am. Thank you." He took a few steps towards the door then looked at the unstrung bow on the ground. Turning back the other way, he grabbed a shovel from the garage, took up the empty water drum again, and slipped through the doorway. Forearm reaching through the narrow doorway, he drew the pieces of the noise trap close then shut the door.

Belle, feeling hazy again, almost didn't realize he had left. Needless to say, she hadn't thought to toss him some jerky, just in case. But he had made it this far, hadn't he? Maybe he had come across the cure himself at some point. Or maybe he was just good enough to avoid exposure altogether.

He would have done that with his bow and arrows, though, wouldn't he? But—he had to know what he was doing. Although with his state of mental health...

But if she couldn't even get to her feet, there wasn't much she could do about it now. She would just keep herself safe and pray that Arthur did the same.

* * *

After stepping outside, Arthur paused, looking at the sky before walking onward. There were actually a few clouds, though none that seemed ready to send water down for him. Why couldn't it just rain more in this place?

Scratch that—there was really plenty of rain. What he meant was, why couldn't the rain be reasonable and steady rather than in great, drenching bursts that were impossible to contain, especially if he hoped not to be struck by lightning? He was able to put together that filtration system, at least, so it wasn't a life or death issue, but still. What was so wrong with a constant drizzle? The clouds could look dreary, but they could at least shield him from the dastardly heat of the place. It was just spring, early on in it, too, but it certainly felt like a summer already. He hadn't hemmed this shirt sleeveless just because its previous owner had narrow shoulders.

His grip on the shovel tensed as he approached the edge of the neighborhood. There were still some houses between him and the lake, but they were in terrible shape and had sheltered zombies before. There wasn't much point in searching the homes, though, since the reek of rotting flesh ensured that the monsters couldn't really sneak up on him.

In fact, there was one quite obviously approaching him right now. It was a few houses down, but it looked to be in decent shape, and it certainly wasn't taking its time coming after him. Sliding the bucket handle up to his shoulder, Arthur steadied the shovel handle with his injured hand and adjusted his grip with the other. He took a few calm steps forward as the zombie approached and, when the thing had reached swinging distance, crashed the shovel into the side of its head. The zombie went down easier than Arthur had anticipated, and the man stumbled a bit as the momentum swung him around, bucket swaying and sliding down his arm. The monster, facedown in a fresh pool of blood, was very much dead, if the dent in his skull was any indication.

Sidestepping the corpse, Arthur rested the shovel on his shoulder and continued walking. He was quiet enough not to attract much more attention for a while, but by the time he made it to the shore, more zombies were lined up. With a sigh, he set the water drum down for the time being and got ready.

The first creature had apparently just been the closest, because it was in such terrible shape Arthur barely had to prod it with the far edge of the shovel to rip open its carotids. It slumped to the ground in a bleeding heap before any more than a little spray of the red stuff had made it to Arthur's arm. He took a second to sweep it off him as the next monster approached. This zombie was faster, but Arthur still slammed the shovel head into its face before it had the slightest chance to bite him.

Glancing back to make sure no blood had made it into the bucket, Arthur readjusted his grip and turned back to the enemies. Four remained, though one was lagging so far in the back it hardly counted.

Arthur charged, bringing the shovel blade sideways into one zombie's head with a sharp crack. By then one monster had gotten behind him, its fetid breaths barely stirring his hair, so he snapped his arm back, jamming the handle into the creature's midsection. Without checking to see what damage that did, he set his sights on the third zombie just in time to duck under its swinging arm. Lunging forwards, he dug the shovel's head into its midsection, not quite killing it but still shoving it away. He stood back up and wheeled around, adjusting the height of the shovel to break the skull of the zombie behind him.

The last threat—the slow zombie had collapsed to the ground without any assistance from him—had started to right itself. When he stepped up to it, though, the creature gave up on that and instead half-flipped itself towards him, grabbing an exposed shin and opening its mouth wide. Arthur brought down the shovel at an angle, and the zombie was too intent on biting him to dodge. Instead its head slammed to the ground with a crunch, and after one brief attempt to pick itself up, it went slack. Kicking its limp hands away, Arthur looked around him to make sure he'd gotten all of them. They all looked dead enough to him.

Picking up the bucket and shaking some blood off the shovel, he took a deep breath and waded into the water.


	7. Fever

Author's Note: I'm starting to run out of already-finished chapters, but I can't just not update my romance fiction on Valentine's Day, can I?

* * *

By the time Arthur came back with lake water, heavy thunderclouds had formed. Really, he should have known this would happen. At least he would have a chance to wash off the blood. Which would not have been on him if he hadn't wasted his time going to the lake.

He did get shovel-fighting practice. That seemed vaguely worth something.

Setting down the heavy pail, Arthur turned the wobbly doorknob and swung the door open. The clattering clash that greeted him made him jump, and he went quickly stumbling into the kitchen, shovel at the ready. Once he realized the things scattered over the floor were the remains of his noise trap, he lowered his weapon. Having a shredded memory was certainly nerve-wracking at times.

"Belle?" he started, pulling the water drum inside and shutting the door. "It's me—don't shoot."

There was no response for a moment, and Arthur suddenly got the notion that she wasn't there. She couldn't have moved by herself, though, so that couldn't be true—unless someone else had come in. The noise trap seemed intact, but anyone with a brain could have set it back up. Even so, the right weapon could have just broken through a boarded window, and if Belle had been asleep...

Stumbling over the remains of the pile, he rushed for the living room, heart caught in his throat.

Belle was certainly on the couch, but her form was slack, gun not at the ready. Her pallor wasn't the least bit soothing, either, and when Arthur finally got to her side he couldn't figure out how to check if she was alive. After a second of standing there quaking, he finally jabbed his fingers at the side of her neck, unable to hold his hand still enough to feel any trembling that wasn't his own.

Then Belle's shoulders shifted.

Arthur froze, sure it was just his own shaking that had moved her, yet she turned her head his way, eyelids quivering but still closed. He fumbled to pull his hand away and tried to get himself breathing again as she shifted a bit more.

"Arthur?" she mumbled, still not opening her eyes.

Throat still closed up, he nodded rapidly before realizing she didn't see him. After another minute of unchoking himself, he finally got out a "yes."

"Hmm." Without opening her eyes, she rolled her head back the other way. She made no motion to reclaim the rifle resting at her side.

His relief at her movement quickly rotting away, Arthur swallowed. "Are you, um, feeling all right?"

Belle finally managed to open her eyes, though she had to clumsily rub at them to keep them that way. "Not particularly."

"Um..." Arthur swayed on his feet, trying to figure out what to do, before he decided to check on her injury. He squatted down and started to unpeel the curtains—had he really never gotten around to changing them?—from her midsection. Blood stains obscured the spot over the injury until he finally lifted away the last layer of cloth.

No horror story awaited him at the wound. There was a decent amount of reddening at the edge of the stitches, but no visible pus. Still, Belle's abdominal muscles were coiled tight in pain, and there was a lot more to the injury than torn skin. He wasn't about to open anything up to check further, though, so he just set the stained curtains to the side and looked for other bandages.

As he was considering tearing a strip from the blanket, Belle started, "My duffel bag."

Arthur paused for a second to decipher her words, then fetched the bag. Belle's arm didn't move from where it draped limply off the couch.

"Inside," she said instead, yawning, "there's a medicine kit. Real bandages."

With a nod, Arthur unzipped the bag and, ramming his fingers past cartridges, found the tin box. After unsnapping the latches, he didn't have much difficulty locating the roll of gauze. While he may not have been a medical expert, Belle cooperated, and he got a few layers wrapped around the bottom of her rib cage in no time.

No sooner did he cut the excess gauze away than Belle dozed off again.

* * *

Changing dressings didn't really fix anything. Belle's fever, not that noticeable at first, worsened to the point she insisted on rolling up in the blanket regardless of the house's temperature. The next day she stayed awake enough to take some antibiotics, but that was hardly a quick fix, either.

As she tried to recover, Arthur did little but watch her. No sudden invaders came upon the house, and there was enough filtered lake water and rainwater to keep him from having to leave. Good, since he still had healing to do himself and couldn't shoot anything if he tried. This also took away his food source, and after resisting Belle's occasional prodding for a day, he broke down and shared the trail mix with her.

Neither kept good track of the days, but after some time they had finally improved. Belle stopped shivering quite so much, and she started staying awake more hours a day. Arthur's lost skin slowly reappeared, the glaring red burns alongside it fading. Belle began to practice walking around the room, then the house; Arthur started handling things with his injured fingers. The pair came close to emptying the bag of trail mix.

She and Arthur were sitting in the living room one afternoon when she finally stood up and, after a shaky breath, said, "I think it's time for me to go."

Arthur, in the middle of a drink of water, just looked up at her and blinked.

She leaned to pick up her backpack and started slipping it over her shoulders. "I think I can handle the trek now, so there's no reason to wait anymore. Thanks for helping me out, and I forgive you for accidentally shooting me in the first place."

Swallowing, Arthur set the cup on an armrest and stood up. "Er, you're welcome and thank you, then." He helped her pick up the duffel bag but didn't let go at first. "Are you, um, sure you're well enough, though?"

"Well enough to walk and shoot," she replied, adjusting the duffel bag strap over her shoulder. "I'm not going to make too much progress at first, but it'll be more progress than walking around the house."

"Point taken." He took a second to make sure he hadn't left anything out of the first aid kit and then zipped the duffel shut. As Belle picked up her rifle, he took a few steps back, bobbing on his feet.

"Here," he started suddenly, turning to hurry into the kitchen. "Let me get packed up, too. I promise I won't take long."

He stooped to pick up a water bucket, now empty, and glanced at the filtration system before deciding against it. "Not too much to pack, anyway. This, bow and arrow, and toiletries."

He hurried back through the living room and into the garage without a look at Belle. "I have plenty of soap and things if you think we'll need extra. Raiders generally just looked for the food and guns and then headed out."

A glove now over his injured hand, he came back into the living room. "E.g., they never took toothpaste from any of the houses. I have tons of that. Doesn't usually still taste good, but—"

"Arthur?" Belle finally started, giving up on waiting for a break in his speech.

Cutting off, the man stopped mid-step in his journey towards the stairs and turned back towards her. "Er, yes?"

"You don't have to come with me." She leaned against the couch. "I can take care of myself. My midsection still hurts, granted, but you've certainly made up for that. You don't have to feel responsible for me."

"Well, I, um, don't really," he replied, eyebrows pulling together quicker than it seemed their weight would allow. "But surely I could be of some help? I, um, did eat quite a bit of your food, so I could at least shoot and skin some game—oh! I haven't fetched a knife yet." He proceeded to do so.

Belle rubbed her lips together. "I really am pretty bad at non-infected hunts..." She watched him pocket a folding knife but keep looking. "Still, though, it's my journey—I can't hold you responsible for my lack of foresight."

Finally finding his skinning knife, Arthur dropped it in the bucket and slid the kitchen drawer shut. He stepped back into the living room, glancing at Belle before closing his eyes.

"I'm not trying to take responsibility for you," he said, leaning against the wall. "I'm—I'm trying to come with you. Am I supposed to let you leave, just like that? Once a nice girl comes into your life, you're not supposed to let her walk away. They write songs about that—it's-it's a terrible idea."

Belle covered her mouth and giggled, and Arthur flushed and looked down as he seemed to realize what he just said.

Fidgeting as if under control of a puppet-master with serious hand tremors, he got out, "And, um, er, I mean, I won't, uh, tag along if it's not all right, er, with you, I just, um... I, um, thought I could be helpful, and, um, all that. Your-your choice, still."

Smiling wide, Belle shook her head. "Of course you can come." She looked up at him, though she couldn't catch his eye just yet. "It'll be nice to have someone watching my back."

"Okay! Good!" Arthur stood up stiffly, opening his mouth again, then glanced back over at Belle. He struggled for a second before blurting out, "Toothpaste!" and hurrying to the stairs.

Bursting into laughter again, Belle sat down on an armrest as Arthur gathered his necessities. It took him a while—from all the clattering sounds, she assumed his motor control wasn't currently at its finest—but he eventually walked back downstairs, bucket swinging on his arm. He paused for a second, staring at Belle, then fled to a bedroom.

"Might as well keep the water drum empty in case it rains and such," he said, returning with his gaze on an old San Antonio Spurs drawstring bag. After cramming his supplies into it in no particular order, he pulled the top closed. He put the bag on his back and grabbed the bucket and his bow.

"Ready?" Belle responded, standing up.

Arthur nodded. "Let's get out of this place."

"All right."

Belle charged ahead, opening the door and stepping into the sun. Blinking away the dazzle as the door closed behind them, she made sure a cartridge was in her rifle and led the way forward.


	8. South

"So, where exactly is Hunt?" Arthur started as the two walked down the road.

Belle shrugged. "I don't know exactly. South and west of here, though. It was about three hours from Killeen the last time I rode over, but we won't be taking a car through light traffic."

Arthur nodded, toying with a strap of his backpack as his old, safe house disappeared behind the trees. He pushed that out of his mind and watched Belle instead.

He stumbled when the ground switched from pavement to grass underfoot.

"We're, um, not taking the road?" he started before she could comment on his fall. Belle still grinned at him as he hunched over, shoving his free hand in a shorts pocket.

"I wasn't planning to," she said, looking ahead again. "There aren't many abandoned homes in the brush, and it's technically a shorter route."

"Aren't abandoned homes, er, nice to come upon, though?"

"Yes..." Belle exhaled. "But not often enough to be worth it." She shuffled her shoulders. "Empty houses freak me out a little."

Arthur paused as they crossed another street, Belle checking both ways. "Except when you want gelatin, apparently."

With a light laugh, she sidestepped an out-of-place chunk of asphalt. "All right, so I make exceptions sometimes."

"Are you glad you did?" Arthur responded before nearly halting mid-step. "Well, um, besides me nearly killing you, but, uh, that's rather obviously nothing to be glad about."

Belle passed a hand lightly over her wound. "That's definitely a downside, but nothing's all bad." She looked at him sideways, one corner of her mouth creeping up. "Still, you're going to have to do me an awful lot of good before I can say finding you was worth the trouble."

"I shall do my best," he replied stiffly, straightening his back.

Belle laughed, though she swore the smell of rotten meat that hung everywhere was getting stronger. Trailing off, she slipped her rifle out of its scabbard and kept a particular eye out. Arthur withdrew an arrow from his side quiver and nocked it.

Another minute of quiet stepping passed before they saw the source of the reek. A single monster, some distance off their current path yet visible through the branches, perked up at the sight of them.

"I've got this one," Arthur said, ducking under a thin branch and passing a few more trees until he had a reasonably clear shot. Thankful for the glove, he adjusted his grip and pulled back the bowstring. A moment of aiming later, he let the arrow fly. The zombie pitched backwards, hitting the ground with little but the fletchings sticking out of its stomach.

"Not bad," Belle said as Arthur lowered his bow. Despite flushing a bit, the man just shrugged and started to walk over to the dead monster.

"Oi!" Belle stepped after him, glancing at the compass that proved this was backtracking. "What, you don't think that did it in?"

"Of course it did," he called back, not stopping. "I have to get the arrow back, though."

"Oh," she said, blinking as she came to a halt. For some reason that hadn't occurred to her. It made sense enough, though—and if he could shoot those indefinitely, she wouldn't have to worry so much about her limited cartridges.

"From now on, you get first shot at everything," she called as he started back, slipping the cleaned arrow back in his quiver.

He approached, bow resting on his shoulder, and stopped beside her. "I can handle that."

* * *

The rest of the day went without much incident. Belle left the creatures up to Arthur for the most part, and they made decent progress. He even shot down a good meal for them and prepared it much more successfully than he had the gelatin.

As the stars blinked on one by one, Belle finished up her makeshift bed in a thick-trunked tree and looked down to where Arthur was perched.

"Do you want me to help you put one together?" she asked, lowering herself a few branches.

Arthur looked up, his shoulders against the trunk. "No, uh, it's not worth it. It's not like I'm going to sleep, anyway."

"All right." She dropped into a crouch just above him. "You should try to get some rest, though."

He laughed rather loudly at that, and she drew back before he realized that wasn't the most polite response. Clearing his throat, he looked out over the forest.

"Sorry. Um, I usually try. Don't succeed, though." He exhaled. "It's impossible. Even if all the people and most of the zombies are gone, I can't relax enough. Just when it's peaceful, just when it's quiet—they start speaking to me. I don't know if they're ghosts or something else; I can never make out the words. Whispers and murmurs are all I get—sometimes shouting, but never distinct. If I knew what they wanted, maybe I could get them to go away, but I have no such luck. They're always lurking in the background, waiting for me to relax, then—bam!—there they are again, talking away, never letting me rest, and..."

He looked up at Belle, and while her expression wasn't visible in the darkness, her nod was a bit too slow.

"And then," he said, looking back out at the darkness, "I stop talking because I realize I'm making myself sound like a complete lunatic in front of the girl I'm trying to impress." He froze. "And that entire sentence just came out of my mouth." His forehead thunked onto his knees.

"Um, please go to bed now," he finished weakly.

She climbed back up the branches like an unsure spider and wordlessly complied.

* * *

The next morning started with a brief breakfast—jerky for Belle and a handful of trail mix for Arthur—before the pair set off again.

They only walked in silence for a minute before Arthur snapped his fingers with a frown.

"I didn't bring a towel," he announced.

Belle glanced at him. "What do you need a towel for?"

"Well, towels have many uses." He adjusted the strap over his shoulder. "Most important is making me look on top of things to anyone we might come across."

"I see," she responded evenly. With the odd angle her smile took on, she may has well have said, "And how does that make you _feel_?"

"I-I promise," he responded quickly, waving an arm, "that was a literary reference and, er, not just me being more of a loony."

"Good," she responded, able to slip into a grin that wasn't quite so tense and twitchy. "You worry me sometimes."

"Ahaha..."

The two got a few steps further before Arthur started, "Do you think we could stop by Austin?"

"Austin?" Belle responded, trying to catch up with the conversation.

"I mean, um, I think it's still south of here, so it shouldn't be out of the way. If you don't want to, that's fine. I just wanted to, uh, see what's left. Of the university. Maybe, um, see if anyone I know is still there." He rolled his shoulders back. "I-it's not really a big deal or anything, just a, um, suggestion."

Belle checked her compass and turned due south, though none too quickly. "Sure..." She took a few steps. "If it's not out of the way, I don't see why not..."

After a moment she was able to pick up the pace a bit. "I guess—" she glanced over at him—"the whole point of this journey is me finding someone I care about." She smiled at him warmly. "You might as well get in on it, too."

He dipped his head, watching his step as he waited for the blush to fade from his face. "Um, er, thanks."

"No problem."

For a while there wasn't much of a difference between traveling south and traveling southwest. More woodland alternating with scrubland, and a few roads slicing through the wilderness. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a whole neighborhood. Belle passed straight through without a word. Arthur glanced through a few broken windows but followed.

They made it through some length of woodland after that before Arthur grabbed Belle's shoulder, pulling her to a stop.

"Ar—?"

He held a finger to his lips and motioned for her to stay put. Glancing through the trunks and then at their feet, he withdrew an arrow and slipped through the trees.

Belle shifted her weight between her feet and peered after him till he disappeared. What on earth was he doing? Just felt like sneaking up on an infected for some reason? Possibly no reason, given the way his mind tended to work. She could cut him some slack, though. As long as he was actually doing something useful for the journey—shooting a monster was definitely in that category—she could wait.

Despite that thought, Belle couldn't quite stand still as the moments dragged on. It was barely around noon, but wasting daylight was wasting daylight. Her hand hovered over the pocket of dried beans—if she went ahead and ate, this moment of rest would at least be useful.

Not sure if it would be proper to eat without him, she crossed her arms and looked around, foot still tapping. A minute into that, she noticed the deer prints. She put the pieces together a bit before the grinning Arthur surfaced.

With widened eyes, she jutted out her lower lip, making it quiver. "You didn't kill Bambi, did you?"

"Well, he's still bleeding out somewhere, so no, not yet." His eyes flashed up to meet hers, and his grin widened to show a few more off-white teeth. "Would you like to watch me rip out his organs?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Not particularly." Casting a glance south, she added, "How long will it take?"

"Er..." Arthur looked over his own shoulder. "I've never exactly timed it, but... Okay, I have no idea, really. Um, if you'd rather me not take too much time, I could, uh, take out the organs and bring the rest along to skin later. He wasn't too awfully large."

She tapped her fingertips on her thighs. Honestly, her mouth was already watering from the thought of substantial meat for lunch. Luckily, she was quite able to stifle that with the mental image of Arthur scooping out all of the deer's organs.

"All right, let's do that," she finally said, reaching back towards her rifle scabbard. "I can switch to Head Infected-Killer while your arms are full." With a glance into the trees, she added, "Will you need me to keep watch while you're working?"

"No, no, I'll be fine." He withdrew the knife in his backpack and took a step back. "I, um, shall be back, then."

"Be careful," she called.

He nodded in acknowledgement and stepped into the forest.

For a moment she considered going after him, but he had probably handled this by himself many times before. And while half-rotten monsters were a common enough sight for her, watching a deer get its slimy, bloody guts strung out was still a decidedly disgusting idea.

Instead she drummed her fingers on the butt of her gun and looked around. To the south lay a small path with more trees beyond it. The woods to the north were fairly wide, but the sharp rooftops of that last neighborhood still peeked above the leaves. The houses looked normal down to their flawless shingles; this view probably wouldn't have made her shiver if she hadn't already seen the hollow heart of their neighborhood.

She turned back to the south just in time to catch a monster emerging onto the path. The creature had a second or two before a bang and a bullet sent it to the ground. Belle quietly ejected the spent cartridge and put a hand to her duffel bag for a new one. Her fingers met a closed zipper instead.

After a rapid look around, she determined she luckily wasn't in much of a hurry. Opening the bag a bit with a low zipping sound, she put in a new bullet and slid the bolt into its place.

Aside from the wind and a few birds, the wilderness was silent. Bambi was most likely not fighting back, and Arthur must not have been quite happy enough about his kill to sing loudly as he gutted the poor thing.

Belle cast another glance south in time to catch the next infected roaming her way. At its state of decay, it was an even easier shot than the last one. She aimed between the thing's scavenger-pecked eyes and clicked the trigger back. Bull's-eye.

The bolt slid back smoothly enough, and she grabbed the next cartridge.

Something else grabbed the rifle barrel.

A foreign hand jerked her gun back much harder than any infected's could, and her right hand quickly slapped to the stock to strengthen her grip. The duffel bag lunged back, its strap digging into her shoulder, but she staggered backwards before it could knock her over. Something like the metal toe of a boot caught under her heel before its owner stepped back, yanking the rifle farther towards his side. Unable to pull it back in front of her, Belle just tightened her grip and tried to take a few steps forward. The assailant responded by driving the rifle stock into the side of her head.

Her knees faltered as she yelped, but she refused to let her fingers loosen. A sensation she didn't like tingled down her back as warmth started to trickle behind her ear.

"Help!" she yelled before the stock barreled into her head again.

Her grip tensed of its own accord before suddenly failing. Breaths ragged, she whipped around, a fist aimed at anything behind her. It pounded into some hard lump of muscle that didn't budge in the least, and her punishment was another crack to the head.

With an impossible rush of chilly blood—whether it was to or away from her head, she couldn't quite tell—she went dizzy, her next punch failing to hit anything but dust motes. She barely registered the bulky blur of the man in front of her before she hit the ground in an unconscious heap.


	9. Part

Author's Note: There's going to be some sort of OOC-ness scattered about the story, just because of the alternate universe situation. Hopefully it's still believable.

* * *

Stepping nimbly, Arthur continued after the blood trail. He still didn't understand how a deer with two arrows in its chest could run this far without keeling over. It had left a thick path of blood, though, so surely it would be dead when he got to it.

"Help!"

He froze, his shoe crunching onto wet grass. Was that Belle? There wasn't exactly anyone else out here, so it must have been. Of course, there were always the voices.

That had sounded an awful lot like Belle, though. And if she was screaming for help, he couldn't dare take any chances.

Not bothering to find a clear path, he pelted headlong through the trees until the footpath finally came underfoot. Belle was nowhere to be found. Arthur was entirely sure he had gone in the right direction.

The realization of both of these things resulted in him running wildly around the trees shouting her name, but this soon proved to be a terrible searching strategy. Breathing in gasps he couldn't slow down, he returned to approximately the last place he had seen her. A more detailed inspection uncovered an entirely different blood trail. It was only drips and trickles at long intervals, so there wasn't much to follow, but it took all of his rational mind not to go sprinting in the first promising direction. If he was going to find her, he couldn't waste any time running nowhere.

He had left her all alone despite having hurt her, and now she could have been in real, honest danger because of him.

Struggling not to hyperventilate, he dropped to the ground, scrutinizing whatever hints could lead her way.

* * *

"So, what's the haul this time?"

Still squatting, Ludwig tossed the last of the backpack's contents on the floor. "Decent amount of jerky—and a few odds and ends—but the rifle still works, and there're a ton of bullets with it."

"Nice." His brother eyed the collection spread over the tile. "I'm guessing you're going to keep the gun?"

With a shrug, the younger man piled the sheets of jerky more neatly. "I wouldn't want a revolt on my hands. And if someone else got a hold of this, he'd actually be able to overpower me."

"So what, you're just going to keep it on you and not shoot anything?"

"I never said that." Ludwig slid a hand over the rifle. "I'd have to figure out how best to fire it, though, and there's not much to shoot that would be worth the effort."

" 'Kay." Gilbert's gaze slid to the other person in the room. "Hope you're not planning to keep all of the booty for yourself, though." He grinned, adjusting his sunglasses to get a better look at her.

Leaning towards the girl, Ludwig rested his arms on his knees. "I probably shouldn't. It could easily take a couple of years more before another girl comes through, and some of the single guys could get really pissed off in the meantime." He looked sideways at Gilbert. "Possibly one in particular?"

"Who, _me_?" Gilbert whipped off his sunglasses so his brother could see just how wide his eyes were. Ludwig rolled his own and looked back at Belle.

She wasn't exactly gorgeous, but she had a full chest and was quite a bit better than nothing. Hopefully she'd be all right with some usage, but it really didn't matter in the end. He wouldn't use unnecessary force, at least, and he could afford to make her a privileged member of the group otherwise. He already had supplies for everyone for forty-three weeks and two days, so he could factor her in with substantial rations without too much of a risk. There were still houses to raid around Austin, anyway, and sending a group there wasn't a lot of trouble.

So she was certainly a blessing, plain face or not.

"Keep an eye on her," Ludwig said, getting up and throwing the duffel bag over his shoulder. "I'm going to run the medical supplies to Marino's place."

"Yessir," Gilbert replied, planting his rear on the edge of the bed frame and squinting dutifully at Belle's face. She didn't seem to mind.

At the moment she was more concerned about whatever was crushing her brain. On some level, she did wonder what those voices had been saying, but she had enough problems already.

* * *

Belle's trail was gone.

It didn't end in a great pool of blood and her corpse, so that was a good thing. On the other hand, Arthur wasn't exactly an expert on tracking people. Whatever heavy shoe prints had been on the soil every once in a while were definitely gone—now the dried mud had given way to concrete and asphalt. He had good reason to think there wouldn't be many footprints and broken branches here.

After a moment, he looked up, just in case Belle was nearby but hadn't seen him. After another moment, he realized he was back in the neighborhood they'd passed earlier. But Belle certainly didn't seem like one to backtrack. She probably didn't end up here by her own choice, then.

Swallowing, he slowly stepped farther into the neighborhood. Now that he thought about it, the houses had seemed awfully tidy for places abandoned to the zombies. So—there were more people here. People strong enough to subdue Belle and take her away.

Perhaps he'd investigate the place a bit more stealthily.

* * *

Around noon, Belle opened her eyes. The sun glared at her with a vengeance, and her brain refused to stop pounding itself against her skull, but she pushed herself to start putting pieces together.

As she waited for the sun's cyan afterimage to fade from her vision, she took inventory. Her clothes didn't seem particularly torn up, but there were no straps over her shoulders. Cold seeped into her back from the ground, and a dull ache gnawed at her limbs until she rearranged them into a more natural position.

"Whoa!"

She blinked a few times to see an extremely pale man looking down at her through his sunglasses.

"Hey, Ludwig!" he called, turning over his shoulder. "She's awake!"

Tensing up, Belle tried to locate herself. Hanging above her was a rough, white ceiling with blurry, russet water spots. A bit off to her right, where the pale man had been sitting, lay an ornate wooden bed frame missing a mattress. To its side was a caved-in bed stand, the dotted wallpaper behind it mottled and trying to come off the wall bump by bump.

Nothing was near her, so she slowly turned her head to the other side. Just beyond the window's light, a large figure rose to its feet. She immediately linked it to the memory of the man who had taken her rifle, and her breath caught a bit.

He stepped closer, further matching the blur she'd registered earlier. Light blonde hair, which now proved to be slicked back, and a large frame with more than enough muscle to prevent him from fitting any definition of lanky. His clothes were a dull green, his eyes a peculiarly pale blue.

More worrying were the straps crossing his chest that quite clearly belonged to her rifle scabbard and duffel bag. Given his physical prowess, the only reason this incited more fear was because she did not have them.

His hands were empty, though, and his face was severe but not angry. She decided to carefully sit up. Her midsection ached and her head whirled, but she managed to sit upright without any objection from the man.

"Hello," he started brusquely, his voice sonorous. "My name is Ludwig. I am the leader of the survivors of this neighborhood." He gestured to the pale man. "This is my brother, Gilbert. You could call him my second-in-command." Lowering his arm, he leaned forward a bit. "And you are?"

She took in a deep breath as quietly as she could. "Belle."

"All right, Belle, nice to meet you." Ludwig paused to begin popping his knuckles one by one. "Now, I am going to explain the situation to you, and you will not interrupt me."

He glanced at Gilbert, who stepped in front of the window. There went one easy escape. While he wasn't as big as his brother, he certainly wasn't skinny. She would have to fight him to get past, and by then Ludwig would be able to step in. And she already knew from experience how that would turn out.

The younger brother cleared his throat, and she looked back towards him.

"While I'm mainly in charge of this group because of my strength, I also do my best to keep everyone provided for, safe, satiated. That's not as simple as getting food, though. One difficult problem is that some of us men are single, and the others understandably refuse to share."

Belle's back got quite a bit colder.

"So I'm very grateful an attractive young lady like you has come along. Don't misunderstand me—I won't allow anyone under my control to be cruel to you. Just realize you are now part of this group and must contribute in the best way you can. We will provide food, safety, and possibly some rarer commodities since I realize I'm asking a lot of you."

Belle exhaled. "What if I don't want to be part of this group?"

At once his forehead reddened. "You will not interrupt me!"

Cringing—that would have been loud if she didn't have a headache—she shut her mouth and swallowed. He was still standing right by the door, and his brother hadn't moved. Nothing else she had seen in the room seemed remotely similar to an exit.

"As I was _saying_—" Ludwig gave her a hard look—"you will be safe from the infected, any hostile passersby, and hunger. Plenty of us will also be willing to watch over you to ensure you do not leave. In fact, a meeting to determine the interested parties is assembling outside."

Saying this, he took a step forward, glancing past Gilbert. A short distance down the street, among neat rows of folding chairs, some of the villagers stood in clusters, chatting with each other. Chatting about who'd be the first to get a night with her, she guessed. The thought sent bile trickling up her throat.

"All right, get up," Ludwig said, turning back to her and holding out a hand. "This is all about you, so you have no excuse not to be present."

She got to her feet without touching him. The headache made her a bit unsteady, though, and Ludwig took the opportunity to seize her elbow with an icy hand. She growled subconsciously but went along as he led her out of the house. At the door were two serious-looking men in dirt-colored shirts—standing guard, she guessed. They bowed a bit to Ludwig as he exited and then followed him to the meeting, their eyes on Belle all the while.


	10. Blood

Although Belle insisted on tripping over herself a bit more often than her head injury warranted, she and the neighborhood leaders kept drawing closer to the crowd of thirty or so that awaited them. There was no way she'd escape once she was over there, surrounded.

And she had to escape. Ludwig may have taken all of her gear, but she could send Arthur in to get it later or something. At any rate she wasn't more likely to get her things back if she was busy doing lesser things around here.

Knowing his grip was way too strong to break out of easily, she drew in a deep but silent breath and pivoted fast, driving her knee into his groin. He barely grunted, but she ripped her elbow away from him and turned to look for a clearing. Instead she saw Gilbert's fist crashing into the side of her head. Staggering sideways, she suppressed a scream as the pain echoed around her skull.

"Stay back," Ludwig warned, hardly turning away from his brother before he rushed Belle and drove a fist into her stomach.

Doubling over, she skidded back, losing her footing on the cracked asphalt and landing on her rear. Not letting the sudden lack of air in her system stop her, she pushed herself back up in time for Ludwig to easily grab her shoulders and ram his knee into her stomach. With a cough and a gasp, she twisted, slamming her heel into his left kneecap. Unfazed, he switched feet and drove his knee into her abdomen again. Loosening his grip, he threw her to the ground face-first, stomping one foot on her upper back and forcing her arms up behind her, his fingers clenched around her wrists.

Her jaw burning where the asphalt scraped against it, Belle struggled to escape or at least breathe but didn't do well on either front.

"Don't make me fight harder," Ludwig growled. "You won't survive."

Coughing, Belle let herself go slack as much as she could and waited for him to remove his foot. He didn't budge.

"All right," he hollered, turning his head toward the crowd. "Belle's being a bit stubborn, so I would appreciate it if you all would step a bit closer. The meeting will begin shortly."

Footsteps pounded and clacked towards Belle as she tried to think her way out of this. She flicked her heel back to kick Ludwig, but the effect—or lack thereof—was laughable. He just jerked back on her arms. She would have yelped in pain if she had the breath.

"I hereby call this meeting to order," he started as Belle quit trying to strain her neck looking at him. "As most of you should know by now, this morning I—"

His feet suddenly staggered away, releasing her. Gulping down air, she flipped herself over and hurried to get up.

She sat up in time to watch a fist crash into the leader's head. The hand unclenched and quickly grabbed for the shaft nearby, and Arthur ripped his arrow back out of Ludwig's neck. The leader staggered and gurgled a bit more before crashing to the ground.

Taking advantage of things while the followers seemed frozen, Arthur nocked the same arrow and turned to Gilbert.

"I'm sorry—did _you_ hit her, too?" he said, putting a wide, crazed grin on his face. Given the blood-slicked arrow in his hand and his state of mind, it was really quite convincing.

As he started to pull back on the arrow, Belle stumbled over to Ludwig's body and slipped her gun out of its scabbard. Her shoulders still felt all out of whack, but firing a shot or two could help that for all she knew.

"Ludwig?" Gilbert said uncertainly, staring blankly at the fresh corpse.

Slightly disappointed at Gilbert's current lack of concern for his own life, Arthur nonetheless aimed for the pale man's heart and let the arrow fly.

With a shout, one of the brown-shirted men shoved Gilbert out of the way, taking the arrow in his forearm. He let out a cry of pain but steeled himself and turned to Gilbert.

"You're the leader now," he hissed, taking a step to put his whole self between Gilbert and Arthur. "Get somewhere safe while we take care of this."

The stunned look slowly fading from his eyes, Gilbert's gaze dragged towards Arthur in time to watch him loose an arrow. A sudden stain of red spread out from the middle of the dirt-colored shirt, but Arthur snatched both arrows back out of the man before the follower fell slack to the ground.

By then the rest of the loosely-uniformed villagers—a few were from the larger crowd—had gathered at the site, forcing Gilbert behind them.

Panting more from adrenaline than exertion, Arthur took a second to look over at Belle. Her duffel bag was over her shoulder again, her rifle ready.

"I guess you're all right, then?" he commented, keeping an eye on the dirty-shirted bulwark in front of them.

She rolled a shoulder back and winced. "More or less."

With a brief nod, he turned back to the men and women in front of them. White hands were pushing apart two of their shoulders, trying to force a gap in the wall.

"Move it!" Gilbert shouted, driving himself through. He stood, stiff but quivering, his eyes lividly wide and staring at Arthur. Meeting his gaze, Arthur smoothly wiped the blood off his arrows and pocketed them.

Without another word, Gilbert screamed in rage and socked Arthur in the jaw. Taking a step back to steady himself, Arthur threw his bow back in its carrier, swinging a foot at Gilbert while his arms were occupied. Gilbert grabbed the incoming ankle, jerking it forward, but Belle slammed her boot into his wrists. Both men stumbled to the side, but Arthur recovered his foot and lunged, his fist crashing into Gilbert's nose. His cry masking most of the crunch, Gilbert regained his footing and with another yell punched back.

Someone grabbed Belle's shoulders. Jerking, she wrenched herself around, aiming her gun at the dirt shirt responsible. He froze, putting up his hands and backing away. Snorting, she stepped over until she had a decent view of all of them, keeping her finger near the trigger.

After exchanging another few sets of blows, Gilbert and Arthur took a second to recover. Blood decorated their heads, though most of it was just from their split knuckles. A few gasping moments passed before Gilbert drove a fist into Arthur's stomach. Coughing, Arthur slammed his knee into Gilbert's ribs and fired a punch at his chest. Bringing his forearm up to block, Gilbert snapped a kick to Arthur's kneecap, the leg buckling. Growling, Arthur quickly shifted his weight and bashed Gilbert's jaw.

Gilbert stumbled to the side, and a dirt shirt woman helped him upright. Arthur swung a fist, but he dodged; Gilbert's knuckles connected with Arthur's ribcage. Arthur smashed his fist into the side of Gilbert's head, sending the pale man crumpling to the ground. Two of the followers pulled him up, but he had gone limp.

The line of dirt shirts adjusted, barring Arthur from another strike as two of them hurried away with Gilbert. Arthur, wobbling so much Belle scooted over to support him, didn't pursue him.

"So," Belle started, eyeing the rigid line of underlings and angling her gun towards each one as she did so, "I seem to be missing some of my supplies. I don't suppose you'd mind finding them for me?"

Arthur withdrew his bow and an arrow to back her up. Though some swelling near his eye and plenty of bruises already started to show, his stern expression left little doubt as to whether he could still shoot or not.

Though their eyes were no longer set with determination, the group stood as they were until a younger man near the middle dipped his head.

"I-it got split up between the mess hall and the medic's house," he said, not meeting her gaze. "So it'll be quicker if we split up." With that, he looked at the woman standing next to him.

The two started to pull away from the line and, after a moment of regarding Ludwig's body, the pair's weapons, and the absence of their new boss behind them, the rest split off and hurried to reclaim the supplies.

Belle kept her rifle ready as the uniforms disappeared, leaving only the crowd lingering a short distance away. Some people were talking and some seemed unable to, but everyone kept casting glances at Arthur and Belle. One child shuffled closer to see what was going on, but a gaunt woman lunged to pick him up and, with a wide-eyed glance at the rifle, fled to the back of the crowd.

Averting her gaze, Belle quietly lowered her gun. She wasn't about to put it away, but she certainly seemed like more of a threat to these people than they were to her. No one looked armed, and while most of them had some meat on their bones, few could be considered anything close to bodybuilders. They hadn't survived the apocalypse by their own strength.

And the one who watched over all of them was just killed. Maybe their second-in-command, too.

The weight of Arthur's back against hers subsided, and she turned to check on him. He stood, an arrow nocked, but his form was rather slack otherwise.

"You doing okay?" she started quietly.

He took a moment to register the question before turning towards her a bit. "Yeah." He wiped away the blood stemming from his nose and nodded. "Um, I'm okay, yes."

"Good." She cut it off at that because her head was pounding again.

Neither the armed pair nor the villagers moved much until the squads of dirt shirts returned. They presented Belle with her backpack, stuffed with all of the jerky—she counted the pieces out just in case—and the bottle of iodine. The medicine kit, with a few complimentary gauze pads thrown in, made its way back to her duffel bag.

Belle and Arthur said goodbye and headed through the woods again, constantly checking their backs till they were far past the last stretch of concrete.

They dragged their feet all the way to another neighborhood before their legs threatened to give out without any further notice. After searching a few battered houses that had only skeletons, they settled on one with completely empty drawers and closets but two beds in the same room. Even the covers were intact on the things, and Belle was too eager to rest for the thought to give her chills. She peeled back the uppermost, dust-covered layer of cloth and settled down. Gently lowering her head onto the pillow, she curled up and closed her eyes.

A minute later she reopened them. Arthur wasn't on the bed across from her, and was in fact hovering by the room's window.

"You need rest, too," she mumbled. "Go lie down already."

Without looking back at her, he leaned against the windowsill and said, "There could be other people here, there could be other zombies here, there—could be..." He trailed off, swaying on his feet.

Belle slowly sat up. "If you just mean someone needs to be on watch, I'll do it. You're in worse shape than me."

He didn't respond, so she said, "How about we push some furniture over the doors, just for a quick fix? We're close enough to the other village they probably took in all of the people from here, anyway, and the sparse infecteds these days don't tend to put too much effort into breaking into places."

She shuffled her shoulders, cringing at the bolt of pain it sent across her back. "It would be a lot safer than one of us attempting to stay alert for watch."

At that last addition, Arthur finally turned around and nodded. Aside from a few bruises, his face was a lot paler than she would have liked. Still, she helped him move the splintery chairs and tables, as well as a television, to the entryways before again demanding he go lie down. He finally obeyed, claiming the farther bed, and Belle climbed back onto hers.

Making sure her loaded rifle was within arm's reach, she closed her eyes and slipped into sleep.


	11. Sore

Belle woke up late that afternoon. Her head pounded, her shoulders were sore, and her midsection felt a bit chewed-up and spit-out, but it was still quite nice to have slept in a real bed. She stretched gingerly and sat up, doing a preliminary sweep for infecteds.

Arthur wasn't on the other bed, or by the window.

Belle swung her legs off the side of the mattress and waited a second for her head to stop spinning. "Arthur?"

The house remained silent as she shifted her weight to her feet and stood. Withdrawing her rifle, she swallowed and stepped through the house. Nothing but dust.

She was ready to turn back when she nearly tripped over a chair. Catching herself on the wall, she looked at the furniture for a moment before realizing it had been moved away from the side door. The nearby door was locked, but no longer dead-bolted.

Frowning, she opened up the door to step out after him but paused. Right where she was about to put her boot lay a careful array of pebbles and gravel spelling out "DEER."

She set her foot back inside the threshold and stared at the word for a minute before it clicked. He had gone back to get the deer from that morning. He had gone back in the direction the village whose beloved leader he'd killed, and at a time when he was so battered he couldn't even stand up without wobbling.

Was he honestly that stupid?

Exhaling, Belle stepped over the message, shut the door behind her, and started walking. Her finger hovered near the trigger in case this was a trap, but she couldn't see how that could be the case. There were no signs of a break-in or struggle, and, stupid as it was, going back for the deer would have been the only fairly rational reason for him to leave. She couldn't think of any ulterior motives, unless he just wanted to go back to his peaceful house by the lake.

Would he want to? That idea didn't mix too well with how hard he was trying to make up for shooting her, or how very interested in her he seemed.

The other alternative was just that he was running around being crazy, which didn't seem entirely unbelievable, though he wouldn't have left a note. Unless the voices told him to.

She made it past a handful of houses, shooting an infected in the process, before she could make out a crumpled figure in the middle of the road ahead. It looked quite dead.

It also looked like Arthur.

Rapidly searching for any more monsters or monstrous humans, she hurried ahead to stop by his limp figure panting. He lay prone, strung bow off to the side, one hand nearly under his face, his chest not moving. Belle took a deep breath and, after one last check for enemies, felt for a pulse. It was there. Faint, but steady enough.

Exhaling, she pulled back and dug her hands under him, flipping him upright with some effort. He seemed to frown a bit deeper in response, but his chest now rose and fell perceptibly. After a bit of prodding, he shifted his arms and finally grumbled and opened his eyes. Once he made out Belle's face hovering directly above his, he fell silent.

"I'm guessing you didn't make it to the deer," she said.

"Um—um—sorry." He swallowed, saying nothing else.

Registering the heat coming off his face, Belle rolled her eyes and leaned back, sitting up. "I hope you realize that going out alone in your condition is a terrible idea."

"Um, yes, yes." He started to push himself up but winced and gave up. "But it would have been such a waste of food—not to mention I still have two arrows in the thing."

Belle rubbed her forehead. "Would it really have cost you to give yourself some recovery time first? A few hours, at least?"

"Well, not really, but, er..." He looked to the side and stretched an arm towards his bow. "I mean, I've held you back long enough, putting an arrow through you and all. If I just took care of this while, uh, you were resting, it wouldn't waste any more of your time."

Belle sighed, checking again for monsters. "At least you're being thoughtful about it. Maybe if you hadn't just had the living snot beaten out of you, it would have been a good idea."

She provided a hand to help him up, and, after some hesitation, he accepted shakily. A bit of blood leaked from his knuckles onto her glove, and she bit her cheek.

"Although I guess that was halfway my fault, anyway," she said as he slowly rose. "If I had just gone ahead and shot him..."

"No, no," Arthur muttered, grunting as he sat all the way up. "That's fine, if you don't like shooting people. I, um, really wanted to beat him up myself, anyway."

Belle smiled, putting her hand back on her rifle. "Just for punching me, huh?"

"Well, yes." His frown tightened.

Belle got to her feet slowly and held a hand out again. "At any rate, I can't say it wasn't helpful. Things were about to get pretty nasty before you jumped in."

He took her hand, though his pulling did more to shake her balance than regain his. "Was he just—was he going to kill you in front of everyone?"

"Oh, no. The last thing he wanted to do was kill me." She sheathed her gun for the moment to help him up with both hands. "He was going to make a public announcement to all of the single men that..." She took a deep breath. "That he'd make sure I'd be free for a few one-night stands with any of them whenever they wanted." She shrugged, though it wasn't noticeable with Arthur tugging down on her arms.

"He..." His eyebrows drew low and together. "He _what_?" He lurched to his feet suddenly but staggered, breathing hard.

"Whoa, whoa." Belle caught his shoulders until he steadied a bit. "Yes, horrible things, but I hardly have to worry about it now, thanks to you."

His breaths still heavy, though not so much from nearly losing consciousness now, Arthur glared ahead, his jaw set.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice low. "I should have killed him much more slowly."

"No, it's okay," Belle said quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder. It was tense to the point of quivering. "Really. All that matters is that he's no threat to me now, so—" she nudged him ahead—"let's just get to the house so you can rest properly, and then we'll go back for the deer, okay?"

Not budging, he just continued to clench his fists, murderous scowl still etched onto his face.

"Arthur?" A little chill going down her arms, she nudged his shoulder again. "Come on. You're-you're scaring me a little bit. Take a deep breath, okay?" She shook him a bit.

Taking a step to keep his balance, Arthur forced his eyes shut and attempted to slow his breathing. It took a minute, but eventually he he went a bit less rigid. His hands remained clenched.

"Back to the house, then," Belle said breathlessly, sliding her hand down to his elbow and tugging him after her. Still sucking in deep breaths, he followed.

* * *

As Arthur settled onto his mattress, Belle slipped out to check a few of the other houses. They had been raided quite thoroughly, probably some time ago judging from the piles of dust. Ludwig's villagers hadn't taken care to move or bury any of the bodies, though. Granted, she didn't really want to touch them, either.

Gnawing on her jerky for the day—now that she thought about it, she hadn't had lunch—she tried a few more empty homes before heading back for Arthur. Walking through the side door, she locked the bolt behind her and sat on her bed where she could see him. He had definitely fallen asleep and probably wasn't going to wake any time soon. His right arm angled off the mattress, his toes stretching towards the bed's edge. He was chest-down again, but his head was at least craned to the side where he could breathe. It didn't look particularly comfortable, but after that fight, she doubted anything was particularly comfortable for him.

Wishing she had some aspirin, she wandered to the window and looked out. The sky was orange, sun threatening to dip under the horizon before she could make any more progress.

With a sigh, she walked back to her bed, putting her feet on the mattress with her. There went another day. Hardly the progress she'd wanted. But she was still alive, if a bit beaten-down, and she still had some food, bullets, and immunity jerky. It could have been worse.

She looked in the direction of the village.

It could have been much worse.

* * *

Arthur awoke fuzzy-headed.

He awoke. He had been asleep. How peculiar.

He started to stir, but all of the pain came rushing back in. With a groan, he just turned his head to the other side and kept his eyes shut. Now he at least wasn't leaning on the whopping bruise on his jaw, but that hardly kept his ribs, abdomen, or cranium from sending an absurd amount of pain signals to his brain. If he just stayed absolutely still, though, his limbs wouldn't feel so sore.

"Good morning," called Belle.

Swearing internally, he made himself roll over to see her. She was already loaded up, holding his drawstring backpack so he could easily slip into it when he stood up.

"We'll eat breakfast on the way," she said as he begrudgingly pushed himself up. "It'll take long enough to take care of the deer without lounging around here first."

"Right," he mumbled, staggering to his feet and putting on the backpack. Pulse crushing his head a bit every time it throbbed, he made it over to his shoes and, after a few fumbles, slipped them on. Stringing his bow with a bit of difficulty, he turned back towards Belle.

"And, um, good morning. To you, too." Ducking his head, he started towards the door. Belle beat him to it, and they stepped outside together.

They made it past a house before Arthur squinted at the sun. "Is... is it morning?"

Digging through her backpack, Belle glanced back at him. "Yeah. Thus, breakfast." She took a scoop of trail mix and handed it back to him.

He took it without looking at it. "So I slept the entire night. And—" another look at the sky—"and then some."

"So it seems." Belle got her own handful and tossed the finally-empty bag to the side.

Arthur stared at the horizon. "Something might be seriously wrong with me."

Belle chuckled, trying not to spit out her mouthful.

"Well, besides the obvious." He nibbled at his handful to find he was actually quite famished. He then proceeded to eat his breakfast much too quickly.

"Is it really that weird to get a good night's sleep?" Belle started, pausing to aim for a monster. She shot it and loaded a new cartridge. "I know you have those... voices to worry about, but surely you've been exhausted enough to sleep the night away before?"

"Exhaustion's never had anything to do with it." He frowned. "I just... never sleep anymore."

"Hm."

The two walked out of the neighborhood before the next creature came into view. Arthur watched it for a minute, wondering why Belle hadn't shot it yet, before he realized she was looking at him.

"If you're still sore, I don't mind firing again," she said.

"Um, no, no!" He fumbled to get an arrow. "Um, I'm fine." He nocked it, pulled back, and shot the zombie in the chest. His arms dropped to his sides immediately.

"Okay, you may take most of the shots today, um, if you don't mind," he said, rolling his shoulders back as they approached.

Belle smiled. "No problem." She shot him a sideways glance and bumped her shoulder into his. "Wimp."

Arthur stumbled to the side, and she grabbed his elbow laughing.

"I just had to prove your case, apparently," he mumbled, moving forward.

Shaking her head with a smile, Belle helped him retrieve his arrow, and the pair walked into the trees.


	12. Park

A while after picking up the blood trail, Arthur came to the deer—if it could still be called that. The legs were torn off at various lengths, the head was disfigured with teeth marks, and enough torso had been devoured for what was left of the rotting innards to fall out over the forest floor. An arrow, kept somewhat upright by the arrowhead caught between ribs, still jutted out from the remains. A bit of further investigation revealed the other arrow, its fletchings ruined and shaft bitten and broken.

There wasn't a decent bite of meat left, and one precious arrow was broken far beyond what he could repair.

Screaming a word that concerned someone engaging in Oedipal incest, he plowed a shoe into a somewhat-intact portion of the carcass, sending more guts flying out.

With an inarticulate growl, he knelt down by the salvageable arrow and wrapped his fingers around the shaft. Then his hand stiffened, and the rigidity passed up his arm and down his back till he was completely frozen.

Belle was still behind him. He had just shouted that clear as day directly in front of a lady.

He remained gorgonized for a minute as Belle ensured that she hadn't somehow missed a particularly threatening monster.

"Arthur?" she finally started. "You okay over there?"

Looking like a massager suddenly switched on, he nodded, trying to pull out the arrow with increasingly shaking arms. Once he had it out, suitably cleaned, and thrust into his quiver, he didn't have adequate excuse to stay there and so turned around.

Red in the face, he glanced at Belle before squeezing his eyes shut.

"I'm so sorry," he said in a strained voice. "I shouldn't say things like that in front of a lady."

"Oh." Belle laughed. "Is that it? Don't worry. Some of the guys I work with swear like sailors."

Fidgeting, Arthur still refused to look at her. "But I am a gentleman! I have no excuse to—" he took in a breath to stop his stammering—"to speak like that!" His voice cracked the slightest bit.

"Goodness, Arthur! I forgive you!" She took his elbow and started tugging him forward. "Now don't keep the lady waiting."

He nodded frantically, opening his eyes but keeping up a brisk enough pace Belle couldn't catch up.

* * *

Afternoon had barely come when the two drew close to a river. Frowning, Belle slowed to a stop and looked westward for any bridges. Despite all of the quaint but blood-spattered houses just across from them, no paths crossed the water. She tried checking the other direction, but even more trees crowded out her view.

Arthur nudged her arm, and she turned away from the glaring waters to see two more infecteds coming up towards them. Ready to shoot before she saw a thing, she thanked God for reflexes and fired on one of the creatures immediately. The other was far enough away she didn't have to rush changing cartridges. It went down in a blaze of gunpowder, and Belle reloaded before looking back at the river.

"Thanks," Arthur started.

"No problem."

He opened his mouth again just long enough to draw Belle's attention before clearing his throat and looking at the river.

"Here," Belle started, adjusting one of the straps over her shoulder and gesturing ahead. "It looks like it curves south just a little to the left, so we'll follow it that far looking for a bridge. Maybe it'll curve the other way, and we won't even need one."

Arthur nodded, and the pair got back to walking. He stayed a bit behind her, both because she was protecting him for the day and because he was thinking. Certainly the latter wasn't particularly out of character for him, but he was thinking about important things, and he didn't want to lose his train of thought whenever she caught his eye. Nor did he want to focus on her looks, because if he thought about that and everything else right with her, it would make the entire endeavor seem so much more futile. No, he had to only behold the back of her head as he wondered how he could ask her on a date.

That was the next appropriate step, wasn't it? He had already established—much too clearly, admittedly—that he was rather fond of her. She didn't have to reciprocate first—that was the point of taking her on a date, right? Surely, surely. And she hadn't shown any overt disinterest, so it wouldn't be terribly rude to ask her.

But, ask her where? To a movie? A nice restaurant? Neither of those seemed to exist at the moment. And if he asked her anywhere else, he'd have no excuse not to talk, so he'd just get to make himself look like more of an idiot than usual. That didn't sound particularly attractive, which put a damper over the whole idea of a date.

With a sigh, he watched Belle's feet ahead of him and wished his head would stop pounding.

So any sort of date would just be doomed. What else was he supposed to do, then? Just stick around and hope she'd fall in love with him without any provocation? Because he wasn't exactly the charming type—to be honest, the more she got to know him, the more she'd probably want to sneak off while he wasn't looking.

What, then? Was he just supposed to say something mysterious and run away, hoping his absence would make her want him more? Even if that somehow worked, she'd just be disappointed when he returned. He probably couldn't keep away for any decently long stretch of time, either.

Every attempt was doomed, then. Ah, well. He had sort of suspected that.

A few more trees and monsters later, a dirt path came under their feet; not much later, it gave way to crumbling asphalt. Still keeping up a brisk pace, Belle couldn't help but throw a few extra glances around. The last thing she wanted was another village with a Ludwig or two.

Rubbing her forehead, she exhaled and continued along the path. A little smooth ground under her feet wasn't all that bad, and she was still heading south.

Arthur wasn't any less tense than her, but he was a bit more hung up on the scenery. Somehow it seemed familiar, but he doubted this was the only place in the state with water, trees, and a narrow road.

Then the first of the picnic tables pulled into view. Picnic! He could still take her to a picnic! That could be romantic enough, right? All he needed was food and a blanket or something, and that wouldn't be too difficult to procure. He'd have to go out of his way to make it special, but if he just took down some good game and maybe found some herbs or something, it could work. And he would be able to eat, thus greatly lessening his chances of saying ridiculous things during the date. Perfect!

Caught up in this as he was, he followed Belle all the way to an offshoot in the path before some of the park's battered notices drew away his attention. Ghost images of the same signs with fewer dents and dings hovered at the back of his mind, but he still couldn't quite place them.

The pair made it past a clump of trees before Belle's next check of the river revealed a dim shadow in the middle of the sparkling water. A few bobs later, it was close enough for her to make out almost-human features. Slimy rot and blood also decorated the strained face. Infected.

The monster wasn't much closer to the shore before she put a bullet through it. Checking for any others, she switched out cartridges.

"Did you know those guys could still swim?" she started at the same time Arthur burst out, "I know this place!"

They exchanged a glance before Arthur looked away. "Um, er, sorry—you go first. What were you saying?"

"Just commenting on infecteds—or at least that one—being able to swim." She cocked her head to the side. "And you?"

"Yes, um..." He glanced at one of the no-parking signs as they got back to walking. "I've been to this park before. Some mountain-bike race in which a teacher was participating."

He looked into the swath of trees to his left, as if the memory would present itself more clearly over there. He really couldn't recall anything but the lure of extra credit and some point in the car ride when he rather profusely insulted one of the other occupants of the vehicle. As to why that was necessary he had no recollection.

"All right." Belle adjusted a shoulder strap. "So, does that mean Austin's pretty close?"

"Yes. I mean, that... river-like entity—" he gestured towards the water—"is actually Lake Austin, so..." He frowned sharply for a minute, watching his feet move forward. "I think it was less than an hour from the university, by car."

"That's not bad."

He nodded, and they continued along the path until it veered to a parking lot on the shore. The river quite clearly began to curve east, with no bridges to make up for the trouble it was putting them through. Frowning, Belle wandered over to one of the piers and looked over the water, then at the clusters of trees to the east. As she sat down, Arthur's footsteps tapped over the wood.

"I guess we could just try to build a raft," she started, voice devoid of any conviction. "It wouldn't be a big deal just swimming over if it weren't for all of the supplies, but..."

"Ah." After a moment of pause, Arthur slowly sat down next to her. "How long would building one take, though?"

"No idea." Cheeks resting on her fists, she watched the ripples in the water jump and shimmy. "There has to be a bridge crossing this somewhere, though, right? Especially if we're that close to the big city."

"Yes..." Peering past her back, Arthur watched the easternmost part of the river he could make out. "And, um, I'm actually starting to think—" he swung his head back in line with hers—"Austin might be east of here."

Sitting back, Belle pressed her palms against her knees. "Why do you think that?"

"I-I don't know," he answered quickly, chewing on his lip a bit. "I really can't give you any solid evidence, but I... have a feeling. Given I have been here and back, I would say it's some trace of the memory, but then again it could just be a peculiar thought with no grounds."

She looked at him sideways. "You're not giving me a very good reason to go out of my way, you know."

He laughed weakly. "So it seems."

With an exhale, she looked back at the river. So, she could either walk north or east—neither of which, incidentally, was southwest—or she could build a shaky raft over an indeterminate amount of time and swim across. The latter sounded a bit better until she realized whatever raft she could manage wasn't at all guaranteed to keep the supplies dry.

"How about," Arthur started tentatively, "we mull it over for a while? I could go further into the trees and see if there's anything to eat."

Belle looked at the sky, but there weren't any birds around. "That actually sounds pretty good." Her gaze slid back to Arthur and the various bruises visible on his person. "Will you be able to handle it, though?"

"Of course." He stood, straining to keep from wobbling or stumbling—neither of which would help his case right now.

She watched him. "Are you sure? I don't want you eaten by wildlife or infected just because you want to show how much of a macho man you are." She twisted some hair in her fingers. "I can survive the day without another meal if you'd rather just stay and recoup for a bit."

He sighed. To be honest, he wouldn't mind a nice nap in the sunshine right now. Even if he wouldn't actually fall asleep, not moving around so much might dull some of the throbs and aches from his fight.

But it wasn't as if he'd never been hurt before. He had made it through the apocalypse. He could push aside a few sore muscles and a headache to get some food.

Besides, he couldn't just let the lady go hungry, now, could he?

"I can handle it," he reiterated, pulling his bow out of its holder.

"All right." Belle looked up at him with a smile. "Good luck."

Flushing, he nodded and hurried off.


	13. Meat

Author's Note: Just going to say thanks to everyone who's read or reviewed! Good to know I'm not the only one interested in this story. Let me know if anything's a bit off or particularly cool to you—I'm going to try to publish an original version of this eventually, so I'll take all of the constructive criticism I can get.

* * *

It would have been easier for Belle to concentrate if the infecteds stopped trying to swim to her. Apparently there was quite the little community of monsters across the river-lake. She wondered vaguely if they had been smart enough to stay in a pack, although they weren't keeping that maneuver up at the moment it mattered.

Feet just over the water's surface and knees wedged firmly on the edge of the pier, Belle fired another round. Quite a few rank bodies were bobbing eastward now, like clumps of dead fish after the cartoon dad electrocutes the lake to get his day's haul.

Was there any fishing to be done here? It seemed feasible, but she hadn't really done any angling before. Arthur, given his fidgeting in the least stressful of circumstances, probably wasn't much of a fisherman, either. They could at least give it a shot, if any of the buildings or RVs had a few good poles. Still, it would be too much of a time sink if they didn't end up catching anything.

She couldn't exactly try it at the moment, either. While she had some time to herself by the water, she probably couldn't afford to take both hands off the fishing rod all of the time to shoot down infecteds. Ah, well. It'd be better for Arthur to go snag a deer in the time it would take to get a good fish or two. More meat, anyway.

She hadn't had meat for a while now, not counting the immunity jerky. Honestly, she didn't really want to think of it as meat, given its source. It was easier for her to chow on the stuff after having been at it so long, but someone not as familiar with it had no such immunity. Arthur's reaction had been proof enough of that.

* * *

_The back wall suddenly rattled. Shivering, Belle shifted, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder. It was just the wind. Arthur had already told her the monsters never tried to get in here if they didn't see him come inside._

_With a sharp creak, the wall rattled again._

_"Arthur?" Opening her eyes, Belle pulled the blanket more snugly around her shoulders._

_Arthur was holding up a book, but his eyes fell on her. "What is it?" He stood up. "Do you need more water?"_

_"No, not... really." She swallowed, trying to sit up a bit. "I just... You know the jerky in my backpack?"_

_"Er, yes." He carefully closed the book and set it on his chair._

_"Can you eat some of it?"_

_His mouth stayed open silently for a moment. "Um... I guess, but, I mean, I've already been eating enough of the, um, trail mix, and..." He lowered his eyebrows, stepping over towards her to rest the back of his hand on her forehead. "Um, are you, er, feeling less well?" His frown deepened as his hand warmed up._

_"No, no, I'm all right." She scooted a little further towards the back of the couch to get cozy, and Arthur flushed, pulling his hand away from her face._

_"S-sor—"_

_"Relax," she mumbled, closing her eyes again. "Listen, though. The jerky's not just for food, it's... it's the cure for the plague."_

_Starting to recover, Arthur bobbed on his feet, looking over at the backpack absently. "Is it now?"_

_"Mmm-hmm. There's a story, but..." She lost track of what she'd been saying until she opened her eyes again. "But it's not that important. Just try some, okay? It's not quite as gross as it sounds."_

_"It sounds gross?" His eyebrows went off-kilter in puzzlement._

_"Well, just because it's..." Finally catching herself, Belle shut her mouth._

_Arthur eyed the bag of jerky with rising suspicion. "It's what?"_

_She closed her eyes, ready to feign sleep, but it probably wouldn't help. "It's—" she looked off to the side casually—"meat from infecteds." She ended with a cough as if it would lessen the impact of her words._

_"From—" With a gasp, Arthur stumbled back and ran to put the couch between him and the slightly open backpack. "Are you completely _mad_? Er—" He ducked behind the couch, outside Belle's range of vision. "Well, I mean, I'm obviously the mad one here, but, um..." He stood. "I'm-I'm going to dampen a rag for your forehead, all right?"_

_Belle opened her mouth, but she had neither the energy nor the patience to try to convince him. Instead she sighed and further entangled herself in the fleece blanket._

* * *

Even if he had attributed her words to her fever, Belle doubted Arthur would believe the truth any more when she was well. Besides, he had made it this far without even knowing there was a cure. He'd be fine.

Speaking of making it this far...

She gazed across the river, southwest. She probably wasn't going that way. So, backward or east? Backward, there could be a bridge or boat she had missed. East, there was probably a bridge soon enough, especially if Austin was close.

Really, it seemed a bit selfish to tell Arthur to suck it up and just go west with her. He'd already saved her several bullets and who knows how many nights in Ludwig's village. She had to return that somehow, right? And it seemed like there were better chances of finally progressing south that way.

At the same time, he hadn't been completely sure Austin was east. But surely he had a real reason for supposing so. Maybe he'd figure it out for sure as he was hunting.

How long had he been gone now? And how much longer was a good wait before going out to look for him? In his condition especially, there was a chance he could get into trouble no matter how prepared he was. Still, she'd have to give him _some_ time to hunt before tromping through the undergrowth and scaring the game away.

Catching another swimming head, Belle aimed and fired. The spent cartridge fell to the pier with a ringing noise as she reloaded. She cast another glance behind her, but neither Arthur nor a monster appeared.

Exhaling, she turned back to the water and rubbed her shoulder. She wasn't sure that firing helped or hurt, but she still had some healing to do. As long as she didn't have to throw any punches anytime soon, it wasn't too much to worry about.

She thought she heard a snort. A look over her shoulder yielded nothing. Unsettled nonetheless, she pulled her feet up onto the pier, keeping the rifle ready.

Nothing else made any peculiar noises. After shooting another infected, she decided she had probably just imagined it. No point in worrying more than usual.

The sun had sunk well away from its zenith by the time steady footsteps crunched behind her. She pivoted to see Arthur finally emerging from the trees. Just avoiding stumbling over a shot monster, he ambled to the pier, two coyotes slung over his shoulders.

Belle, scooting to make more room for him, watched the meaty pelts plop to the ground beside her. Arthur soon followed, making little effort to keep his head from smacking the wood as he lay down.

Barely hearing him groan over her stomach rumbling, she looked him over. No bite marks, or bad scratches, for that matter. The dead coyotes looked whole enough for her tastes, too.

"Not bad," she started, sweeping bangs out of her face.

"Thanks," Arthur mumbled, eyes closed. "Barely managed the second one, to be honest. Lucky the bugger didn't rip my leg open."

"I'll be glad he didn't." She waited, watching Arthur, but he didn't move any more than necessary for breathing. "So I take it you want a break before we eat?"

He nodded, rolling onto his stomach. "Is that, er, all right with you?" He looked at her briefly with bleary eyes. "If you want, I could, um, try to skin them first."

"No, no, go ahead." She glanced at the coyotes and dragged them a bit closer. "I can keep the varmints away from them while you're resting."

Arthur turned his neck to look at her with a faint grin. "I'm sorry, did you actually just say 'varmints'?"

Belle snorted a laugh. "Yeah—y'all got a problem with that?"

With an amused exhale, Arthur put his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes again.

Aside from one insistent bird above and some quiet splashing below, the area went silent until Belle had to shoot another monster. The boom startled Arthur into stirring, though he settled back down after seeing Belle peacefully change cartridges.

"So, Arthur," she started, sliding the bolt in slowly, "did you figure out which way Austin is?"

He shifted his shoulders. "Well, I'm not one hundred percent certain, but, um—" he brought his elbows in closer—"I really am under the impression it's, um, east, almost straight out."

She exhaled, watching a cloud gradually disperse. "All right. We'll head off that way after we eat."

Her face seemed too dissatisfied for Arthur's tastes.

"I mean... you don't really have to," he started. "I've already held you up, and, um, I mean, he's probably dead, anyway."

Belle sat up straighter, turning her head towards him. "It's someone in particular, then?"

"Ah?" He looked off to the side. "Um, yes. My roommate."

"Huh. And you think he's still hanging around the university?"

Arthur shrugged, head bobbing as he did so. "He was coming back from a 'con' when things started getting bad, so I can't be sure, but he liked the place enough."

Belle nodded, although Arthur wasn't looking at her. "Once we're in the city, you know how to find the university, right?"

"Yes." He closed his eyes. "And if I'm wrong, there should be plenty of street signs."

"Okay." With an exhale, she looked out to the east. No city skyscrapers poked over the trees. There were no good signs to the west, either. It was going to be a long walk either way. "Do you think you can go ahead and skin the coyotes now? I can do the rest if you want to nap while they cook."

He pushed himself up on his elbows. "Um, yes, I think I can manage." With a grunt, he succeeded in sitting, though he still had to let his head stop spinning before he took off his backpack. As Belle slid the first kill in front of him, he fished out the skinning knife.

Although his strokes were rough and a bit more clumsy than with his previous kill, she still watched carefully. She might as well try to do the skinning at some point, though as long as Arthur was able she would pass on it. He was a lot better at getting the most meat possible out. She was a lot better at opening cans efficiently and getting to Nourriture qui Sauve at the right time to avoid crowds.

Unfortunately she had to divert her attention to another infected trying to swim across. It was either fairly far gone or not a great swimmer in a past life, because it was doing a better job of splashing than getting across. But Belle was fair—she gave it a bullet for its efforts like any other.

The ejected cartridge thumped to the pier, but it wasn't loud enough to mask groups of pounding clacks growing loud.

Belle looked up, and the clacks cut off as soon as they had seemed to start. Of course, there was no need for them to continue; horse and rider were already poised just shy of the pier. The rider pointed his pistol in the vicinity of the pair's heads before Arthur felt the need to look up.

Bumping the brim of his hat away from his face, the newcomer drawled, "Now, I can shoot you and you can shoot me, or you could just let me know what kind of supplies you have."


	14. Projectile

Arm steady, the rider watched with an expectant look on his plain features. A mop of black, curly hair that just missed his eyes was mostly covered by a ratty cowboy hat. He sat erect, one rough hand tangled in the horse's mane and nice but wrinkled boots in the stirrups. His skin was Mexican-brown, and his heat-appropriate clothing showed enough musculature to give the impression he wasn't one to be messed with.

Belle exhaled slowly. "We're out of food, if that's what you're after. Go use your bullets on some game instead."

The rider produced a lopsided smile. "A fella needs more than just food to survive. Come on—" he waved his gun, but not enough for the travelers to slip out of its sights—"let's see what you have."

Belle exchanged a glance with Arthur.

"We have little in that respect, too," he said, slipping off the Spurs backpack and peeking inside. "There's a bar of soap in here. To be honest, you could really use it." Through his bangs he scrutinized the rider, who whiffed his shoulder and shrugged.

"I've got a feeling there's something better in one of those bags. Heck of a lot of soap to be carrying around."

Belle patted her duffel bag. "This has my magazines. You're not welcome to them." She eyed his pistol. "I don't think they'd be much use to you, anyway."

He squinted at the bag, then glanced at his gun. "Not for Joan here, no. They'd be worth something trading, though." He rubbed his chin.

"Would they, now?" Belle shifted her shoulder around to move one of the straps there. She couldn't afford to use her hands at the moment. Take her fingers away from the trigger, and the rider would be able to shoot her down without much fear of retaliation.

Arthur wiped some coyote blood off his hand. "What, and nobody would trade for a whole bar of soap?"

The rider squinted at him and snorted. "Possibly, but not much. That all you got, though? Soap, bullets, and a knife? No bleach, silverware, anything?"

"None of that," Belle replied, slowly rising to her feet. "And if you want to trade someone else, I imagine the bullets are worth the most, right? So, if you don't mind getting off your high horse, walk over, take a few, and go."

The rider shifted on his haunches. "And you shoot me while I'm climbing down. Come on, now."

She exhaled. "How else do you propose we do this?"

"Toss it." The rider freed his hand from its place in the mane. The horse waved its head a bit but seemed otherwise unperturbed. "I can catch."

"And you shoot me while I can't fire the rifle. Come on, now."

"Hey, I'll be honest." He tipped his hat a bit. "Let him point the rifle at me while we're working."

Arthur frowned. "That wouldn't do any good, believe me. Let's try this." He nocked an arrow, aiming at the other man's chest without pulling back.

"All right." The rider watched Belle with glistening eyes. "He's got me covered. Get tossing."

Frowning, Belle checked one last time for monsters and slipped her rifle into its scabbard. Unzipping the duffel, she wrapped her fingers around a magazine.

"I've never tried to throw one of these, so sorry if I'm off." She tossed the set of cartridges straight up and caught it before facing the rider. Preparing for an underhand toss, she pulled her hand back but paused.

"Got a bullet ready to put through you if you don't," the rider drawled.

"And there's an arrow to put through _you_ if you try anything," Arthur growled back.

"Eh, I'm strong enough to survive. Just depends on whether y'all want a few GSW's to fool with."

Belle sighed, turning her head to look at her companion. "Don't shoot him if he'll be able to shoot back."

"Well, I know that much," Arthur replied, frowning. He caught the barest wink on Belle's part before she turned back to the other man.

Fingering the ammo in her hand one last time, she let it fly. The rider leaned back, arm outstretched to catch the projectile as it sailed over his head. Eyes on the precious magazine, he didn't notice his pistol drooping off-target until an arrow pierced his wrist.

"Yow!" Though he still managed to securely clutch the cartridges, he lost his grip on the gun. Freeing a boot from the saddle, he caught the pistol with his foot, but Belle snapped up the weapon before he could do so himself.

Hand on one hip, she pointed the small barrel at him. "Yeah, not a bad trade."

The rider whistled, baring his teeth in pain as he pulled the arrow the last little bit of the way through his wrist. More blood dripped along his arm, but it wasn't enough to alarm him.

"Good thing that's not my shooting hand," he said, voice strained, as he pulled some off-white fabric from a breast pocket and started to wrap the wound.

Belle frowned, backing up a bit so he couldn't swat the pistol away from her. "Is that right?"

"Yep. Pistol's not loaded, either." Tying the now-stained cloth with his right hand and teeth, he picked up the rifle magazine and the arrow. "Say, I'll trade you these to get it back."

With her eyebrows raised, Belle checked the pistol's chamber. Nothing.

"What a bluff," Arthur muttered.

The rider's grin faded into a more natural show of teeth as he laughed. "Thought it was worth a shot." He scratched his forehead. "To be honest, I can't even see well enough to shoot you."

"Hm." Belle stepped up and swapped weaponry. "Did your eyes get hurt?" She peered at his face but didn't catch anything she hadn't seen from a distance.

"Not really." He checked his wrist, which was still bleeding but not profusely so. "Some jerk with a flag-painted Jeep ran me over and stole my glasses."

"Oh." Belle blinked. "Well, then."

The rider scratched under the brim of his hat. "Yeah, none too nice of him, but I was out of bullets by then, anyway. And—" he slipped his right hand under his jacket—"he didn't take this!" With a grand stroke through the air, he pulled out a large Bowie knife. "Not too convenient for holding folks up, but good enough for the zombies."

"Good for you," Arthur said, taking his arrow back from Belle. He picked up the coyote remains and stood, not without a tremble in his legs. "We should probably get going now, eh, Belle?"

"Sure." While Arthur still didn't look completely up to the task, if he thought he was ready, they might as well get some distance closer to Austin.

"Oh!" She turned back to the rider. "Do you know where Austin is?"

Blinking, he put the knife away. "Austin's right here. My nickname's Jethro, though."

Belle rolled her eyes, though she still smiled. "I meant the city."

"Probably should have guessed that." Austin flexed his left hand and cringed. "It's southeast, about fifteen miles. I'd offer you a ride, but there's not enough room up here for three." He stroked the horse's neck. "And there's no way the two of you are making off with Dixie."

The horse snorted, seemingly in agreement.

"I can't ride a horse, anyway," Belle replied with a shrug. She glanced at Arthur. "You?"

"No, never been on one," he said, looking a bit wobbly already.

Belle pulled her rifle back out. "Thanks, anyway. Good luck... surviving and all."

Austin tipped his hat. "Thanks, I'll do my best. Godspeed."

With that, he secured his hold in Dixie's mane and coaxed her back into action. Some hoofbeats later, horse and rider had vanished into the distance.

Belle watched the horizon for a moment longer before turning back towards Arthur. "Are you sure you want to head out now? We can afford to wait a minute, especially when one of the coyotes is only half-skinned."

He dutifully plopped back onto his rear. "Yes, please. I'll keep up the work here if you, uh, prepare a fire and spit." He glanced at the ground. "Er, preferably not on the pier."

"All right." She paused to shoot a monster that had stumbled into the parking lot. "What brought on your change of heart?"

"Huh?" Arthur peered at her as if it took great focus to pull his mind back no more than a minute. "Oh. Uh, I, um, just didn't realize how tired I still was until I stood up." He nodded, getting back to business with the coyote.

Belle's mouth scrunched to the side. "Really, now? It almost seemed more like you just wanted him to go away."

"Well, maybe I did." His knife flying into the air as it sliced upwards through pelt, he shook the blade in the air a bit. "He was ready to shoot you! Or, um, he acted like he was." Looking down, he shifted his shoulders back. "I, er, didn't like him, okay?"

"Okay." Belle folded her arms. "He seemed nice enough to me once we got past the formalities, but think what you want, I guess." She smiled. "Nice shot back there, by the way."

"Um, thanks." He went back to fiddling with the skinning knife. "And, uh, good job requesting it discreetly."

She shrugged. "Just glad you got it."

"Uh, right." He bobbed his knees, not looking back up at her. "Whatever would you do without me, eh?"

"Lunge and rip the pistol out of his hand while he was distracted." Her mouth stretched in a grin. "Although that seemed a bit more risky."

"Er, so I see."

"Although I guess it didn't matter that much in the end."

With a shrug, she watched Arthur work. "At least we know where we're headed now, though."

Taking a few steps off the pier, she looked to the east. "Fifteen miles, huh? Five hours at the least, in our condition." She sighed. "But it's still south, and it shouldn't be too much of an excursion. All right—" she stepped into the grass—"keep an eye out for infecteds since we'll both be distracted."

"Will do."

Arthur watched her walk to the nearest tree and start splintering wood.

They were going to Austin, then. He didn't completely understand why. It was out of the way, and Belle didn't like checking abandoned buildings, of which there would be plenty. Only he had reasons for going, and they weren't particularly good. What were the odds his roommate was alive? Not to mention how little the chance was that he had come all the way back to the dorm and lived there for four years. Would he even be in the city at all, if he had survived this long?

At the same time, Arthur couldn't fight the stupid need to check. And maybe they could stumble upon something good for Belle while they were there.

Sure. Zombies at the best, bullets through her at the worst.

With a sigh, he shucked the last of the coyote organs from the meat and started on the next one.

Why was he putting her through this again? It didn't seem very gentlemanly. He'd make sure she wouldn't get hurt—if she really needed his help with that—but it sort of cancelled out when he was the one endangering her in the first place. Wonderful impression of himself he was giving. Not that he was capable of much better.

So off to Austin it was, vain or otherwise. He would just have to hope for the best.

And he was _so_ wonderful at that.


	15. Distance

By late afternoon, the coyotes were eaten and the pair was ready to go. Belle led the way east, taking it upon herself to do all of the shooting as Arthur dragged his feet behind her. Just ahead was a one-road neighborhood, but avoiding it wasn't worth the trouble. There were enough monsters frolicking near the shore to make them think the place was deserted by humans. Some unfortunately pungent horse droppings seemed to contradict that, but Austin had gone this way. Maybe he had been heading towards some bridge ahead.

As the two crossed a short eastward bridge, Arthur watched the last of the picnic tables disappear behind overgrown trees. Not a big deal. He hardly needed a table to throw a picnic, and he wasn't prepared yet, anyway. He'd have to find some game that tasted a bit better than coyote, as well as some other fixings.

Maybe there was fresh food to be bought in the city. Austin had mentioned trading posts, after all. What would they sell at places like that? Extra survival equipment? Extra equipment that wasn't so useful? Everything? And for what price? He hadn't thought to bring the mattress money he had found in his four-year home, but he doubted that was worth much anymore. What did he have that he would be willing to trade? Would a bar of soap or two get him a good amount of food? Then again, it would be nice to keep at least one of those, for the date if nothing else. Come to think of it, some cologne could be of use as well. Maybe he should have brought his house's terrible-smelling bottle to trade for a decent one.

In whatever case, he didn't have much on him he could spare. Given the walking distance and his current carrying capacity, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it would be inconvenient at a trading post.

Really, the trading idea in general wasn't quite as good as it initially sounded. Belle could be suspicious if he ran off to get things for the date behind her back, and the last thing he needed was another chance to ruin the whole affair. He had a good enough opportunity to do that just by attending.

A rasp of breath tickled his ear.

"Holy sh—" Seeing Belle still ahead of him, he managed to catch his mouth as he turned. "—sh—" he stalled as he backed away from the zombie that had somehow snuck up on him—"Sherlock," he finished weakly with the first phoneme-appropriate word that came to mind.

Belle turned at the same time as him and quickly fired on the monster. Ejecting the cartridge a bit shakily, she frowned at the infected as it wetly thumped to the ground.

"Did you just notice him, too?" Arthur started, standing stiffly straight to make it seem like he had totally regained his composure.

"Yeah." Belle slid the bolt back in place without looking away from the monster. "Sorry."

"No worries." He crossed his arms, eyeing the corpse. "It looks like he wasn't about to bite me, anyway."

It took little convincing for Belle to come to that conclusion, too. While the creature seemed fairly healthy overall, as far as infecteds went, its lower jaw was completely gone. The frayed, exposed gore in the unnatural gap was enough to coax her gaze elsewhere.

"No reason to stay stopped," she said quickly, taking her first step away. Glancing at her compass, she waited to make sure Arthur was following before she continued across the road.

Sudden appearance aside, that infected had been pretty fresh—it was probably an unaffected human a few days ago. A sudden image of him healed and smiling flickered across the back of Belle's mind, but she was able to push it aside without much difficulty. She had already seen enough human beings lost to the plague, too many to let another have a face.

More importantly, where had this infected been before? Did it come here from Austin? If so, there wasn't a very good security system over there. Or perhaps they hadn't found the cure and instead chased their infecteds away. That seemed a lot worse of an idea than just going ahead and shooting them, though.

The infected could have left as a human, but that possibility wouldn't yield much information. Austin didn't have an iron grip on its inhabitants, that was all. Possibly the guy could have been fleeing from some terror in the city, but, from the looks of the other monsters here, he would have been the only person to head this way recently. Or he could have come from somewhere else entirely. Saying anything would be jumping to conclusions.

Still, if a rambling infected could make it from Austin to here within a few days, maybe less, it must have been as close as Jethro had said. That was good news. It didn't seem much like the cowboy to try to lead them into a trap, but something like that was always possible these days. Hopefully Belle was right and that wasn't the case.

Shooting down another monster—just another farther-gone one—she took a swig of water.

It was still a good idea to be prepared for a trap, but what extra caution did she need to take? Go a different path and stumble straight into the lake? Any other precautions she was already taking, anyway. Looking everywhere, staying ready to shoot—all totally ordinary safeguards. Granted, she had somehow managed to miss one infected back there, but that was an exception, not the rule.

Come to think of it, a few others had passed under her radar some time back. That was before she came into Arthur's house, though. Now she had a whole other set of eyes to spot danger. Not a bad deal.

Really, it wasn't that bad in general to have met him. Given all of the down time after being run through with an arrow, it was hard to say if he was definitely worth the trouble, but he was worth some of it. Nothing wrong with another observer and sometime shooter who had already saved her a good amount of bullets. She'd probably get to keep even more cartridges in the duffel once he felt better.

She also found it nice to have someone to talk to. Though she hadn't been alone for long enough to feel it, surely the isolation would have begun to take a toll on her well before she made it to Hunt. What exactly that meant she didn't know, but thankfully she didn't have to find out.

Or, hopefully she wouldn't. There was always a chance Arthur could end up dead or infected. Still, no reason to expect the worst, right? He was a little loopy, but he was capable, too. Maybe even more so with her to keep an eye on him.

Feeling oddly cold nonetheless, she scrubbed a hand through her hair and frowned.

"Are you all right?"

"Eh?" She slid her hand back onto the rifle and glanced behind her at Arthur. The corners of his mouth bent down as he peered at her.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, looking back ahead. "I'm just a little bit of a mess. Wouldn't mind a shower, but the clouds aren't looking too promising." She sighed. "Or a nice, warm bath... But that's all right." She grinned back at him. "If you can still stand the smell of me, I don't have too much to worry about yet."

"Er, right." Nodding, Arthur rubbed his shoulder and looked off elsewhere.

The road split into a T ahead, but the rightward path soon gave way to another neighborhood street along the lake. Home after home, abandoned, boarded-up, gates sunken-in and askew.

"So, Arthur," Belle started, clearing her throat, "what's this roommate of yours like?"

"Hm? Oh, um—" He thumbed at his arrows—"nice. And, uh, quiet. Ridiculously intelligent; I'm not even sure why he wanted to go through university. Just needed the piece of paper with 'Chemical Engineering' on it before he went to graduate studies, I suppose."

He folded his arms as Belle took care of another monster. "His main interest was nanotechnology, but he could honestly do anything. Except English." He grinned. "Good thing he had me for that."

"Nice." She reloaded the rifle. "You're good friends, huh?"

Arthur blinked, head popping up a bit. "Er, yes." He chewed his lip. "Um, I guess so."

Prodding him with her elbow, Belle snorted. "What, the tough-guy loner doesn't want to admit he has friends?"

"N-no, that's not it!" He rubbed the spot on his arm where she jabbed him. "I just... I don't know."

Belle prepared to question him further but stopped, looking at the drive branching off the road. A two-car crash rusted ahead, but behind it was another pier. This one had several little boats roped to it.

Drifting off the asphalt, she heard the faded gravel crunch as she walked over it. After a moment, several hurried footfalls signaled Arthur following.

"Do you think any of these work?" she started, coming up to the pier.

He kept in step behind her. "No. Um, we could try if you want, though."

She sighed. "Yeah, I bet someone's come through and taken the fuel by now."

Taking a moment to fire on a swimming infected, she watched it bob across the water. It stayed about the same distance from the shore as it floated away.

"We could probably get in one and at least float to the other side, but we'd have to make oars of some kind." She looked back at Arthur, but no words came out of his open mouth, and the look on his face didn't make her think that would change.

"We're going towards civilization, anyway," she finally said, turning back towards the road. "There has to be a bridge, and I'm sure we can walk faster than the current would take us."

Arthur nodded rapidly and followed as she stepped back onto the cracked asphalt. With a quick glance down and up the street, she set off again.

Ahead, the road ended. The trees were thick, but some houses still peeked through the gaps. Belle didn't pause for long before deciding to keep straight along the shore. From there she and Arthur drifted on and off roads but kept walking. Belle's headache started to act up again, but the sun was getting low, and she didn't have time to stop.

The curving neighborhood street underfoot was tinted a dull orange by the time she finally decided she'd had enough for the day. A bit of exploring and monster-shooting later, she settled on a house with plenty of obstacles between it and the lake. Several shingles were crumbling, and other houses stood farther from the water, but this place had sturdy enough walls and was directly in front of her.

A look inside didn't change her mind. A skeleton sprawled in the living room, and raiders had obviously been through, but the doors stood firm and the ceiling was intact. The two beds in the house were stripped of coverings, but the evening was getting warm enough that that wasn't an issue.

Arthur moved a tall dresser—thankfully already on carpet sliders—in front of the master bedroom window as Belle kicked her shoes off.

"Do you want me to keep watch," he started, panting a bit, "or will we be safe enough just blocking the entryways?"

"We'll be fine." The duffel bag hit the floor with a chorus of jangles. "Are you well enough to shoot, anyway?"

"Um, er, I'm doing better, thanks." He walked to the doorway before looking back at Belle.

She smiled, thumbing her rifle scabbard. "I'll be fine. Go to the other bedroom and get some rest."

He took a step backwards. "Right." After a glance behind him, he nodded at Belle. "Um, good night, then."

"Good night."


	16. Clean

Author's Note: Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's reviewed! Obiwanlivesforever, of course, in reviewing every chapter. Thanks to EtariXRyuji as well, and the anonymous readers Trucherry, Anon, and Laozi. I really appreciate you taking the time to give me some feedback.

* * *

Belle got out of bed a few minutes before dawn. Stretching triggered only a dull throb from her abdomen, so she pushed herself up, adjusted her clothing, and checked her rifle. With a yawn, she started to load up as she pulled her boots on.

Opening the door, she saw that no figure or shadow hovered outside. "Arthur?" she started.

"Er, yes, coming!"

So he was awake. Belle popped her knuckles and walked through the doorway.

Arthur, fiddling with his bowstring, hurried towards her. Though his hair was always unkempt and his eyes tired, he seemed particularly bedraggled this morning.

"Did you not get much sleep?" she started, leaning against the doorpost.

"Er—" his hand flew to the back of his head—"no, but—I mean, yes, a bit, but, um, I woke up early, couldn't fall back asleep, all that." Watching his shoes, he shifted his feet. "Um, listen. While I was up, I checked out some of the other houses for, er, anything useful—you know. And, um, if you're ready to leave, there's something I think you should see. In one of them."

Belle blinked. "Okay, yeah. Here—" she unwrapped a piece of jerky—"I'll just nibble on this while we're walking. Do you want anything? I still have a few energy bars in here."

"Um, no, I'll be fine, thanks." Dipping his head, he took a few steps back. Belle followed, and soon he was leading her to the front door. Ready for the open air, he swung the door open and instead faced five monsters.

The pair jumped back, and Belle fired on one of the monsters before Arthur got an arrow nocked.

"Here," he started, nailing a second one through the eye. "I can go ahead and do the shooting again. If, um, that's all right with you."

Belle pulled back, though she didn't yet put her gun down. Backing up, Arthur shot down another creature, but by the time the next arrow was nocked he had to snap a kick into an intruder's face. Putting an arrow through the other one, he proceeded to simply smash the last monster's head into the doorframe a few times. Panting, he knelt to get his arrows back.

Belle let the rifle go slack in her hands for the moment. "Looks like you're ready enough to shoot. Be careful, though." She watched nervously as he wiped the infected blood off one arrow. "You don't have to be bitten to get infected, you know. Any of their blood will do."

"Hm?" He looked up at her, squinting. "Er, right. Sorry." He slowed down the process of further blood-staining the carpet.

After another minute, the arrows were back in his quiver, and he led Belle further. Though they had to stop a few more times for a few more monsters, they soon ended up in front of a large home. A dull light shone in one of the upstairs windows, and what seemed more like faded smoke than a cloud hung behind the building.

"It's this one," Arthur announced, picking up the water bucket he had apparently left in the yard to mark it. He gestured towards the faintly-glowing window. "Upstairs." He swallowed. "Come on."

Unable to draw any conclusions, Belle just followed without asking questions. The smell of charcoal faded as they walked indoors. Footsteps creaking over the wood floor, Arthur led her up the stairs and, warning her about some wires jutting from the wall, stopped in front of a closed door. He rubbed his hands, looking at the panel for a moment, before turning towards Belle.

"Sorry about the lighting," he started, reaching for the doorknob tentatively. "No windows and no torches, so I just found a few decorative candles and set them aflame."

"That should be fine," she replied slowly, adjusting a shoulder strap.

"Okay." He twisted the knob but stopped, fidgeting. "You can, um, take however long you need to. Er, I'll stand guard outside."

Belle nodded, and, after taking a deep breath, Arthur finally opened the door and stepped aside. Belle's boots thumped as she tentatively entered.

The candles weren't great, but the mirror stretching across the wall reflected their glow further. While Belle found herself squinting, there was more than enough light for her to tell it was a bathroom, its wall tiles the same dull coral as the floor. Distorted flickers of candlelight shone on the clear water filling the coppery bathtub.

"You didn't." Laughing, Belle drew her fingers over the surface. "Oh, gosh, it's even warm."

She turned her head to where Arthur stood fidgeting in the doorway. "How long did it take to clean all of this?"

"U-um—" Arthur fussed with his collar—"I mean, I wasn't going to, um, fall asleep, anyway, so..." He looked at the water. "I-it's okay, though, right? I, um, tried to find a clean tub, and—look!" He grabbed at the towel rack just to the side of the bath. "This house, um, even had a nice towel!" He laughed loudly for some reason he wasn't entirely sure of.

He managed to cut off when Belle hugged him.

"That's so sweet!" she cried, grinning as she released him. He immediately fell back on his rear, his face red and his mouth in a contorted, open position as if he weren't sure what emotion he was supposed to display.

Giggling, Belle helped him up. "I really appreciate it."

Arthur emitted some sort of squeak before hastily clearing his throat. After some period of stammering, he squeezed his eyes shut and said, "I-I'll go, um, keep guard, then?"

"Right." She nudged him towards the door. Watching him sideways, she added, "Also, if I catch you peeping, I'm emptying a magazine in your abdomen."

"U-u-understood!"

Shutting the door and twisting the knob to lock it, Belle started to unload her bags. She could still hear Arthur disbelievingly laughing to himself until she settled into the water.

* * *

Making sure she had loaded up everything, Belle gave her hair one last scrub with the towel and stepped to the door.

"It's me making noise," she started, fiddling with the doorknob to unlock it, "so don't shoot. We really don't want to do that again."

Stepping to the side, she swung the door open and stepped into the hallway. No monsters jumped at her, thankfully, but Arthur wasn't straight ahead, bobbing on his feet in anticipation. A look to her left showed that he was slumped against the wall, eyes closed, his strung bow lying harmlessly on the carpet. She stood and waited for a moment before sighing and jabbing two fingers into his stomach, without much abdominal muscle to stop her.

With a choking sound, he bent double just enough to lose friction with the wall. Stumbling away, he rubbed at his eyes and looked about frantically.

"You weren't going to fall asleep, anyway, huh?" Belle started, hand on her hip.

"What?" Bewildered, he stared at her for a moment before checking his pockets and then finally seeing his bow on the floor. He stooped to pick it up and scrutinized it, though not without throwing glances back at Belle.

"Good morning," she deadpanned.

"Oh. Um." Face a bit red, he cleared his throat and checked the hallways. "Any zombies stumbling through would have, er, woken me up. A-anyway, um, no point in staying here any longer." With a nod, he hurried towards the stairs.

"God, how do I keep falling asleep? I must have a concussion." He rubbed his forehead.

"Doesn't really matter why," Belle said, keeping up. Arthur paused, looking behind him before he flushed and hurried on to the front door.

"Just assume you need sleep until you're sure otherwise," she continued, ignoring his sudden re-realization of her presence; he was probably still a bit asleep. "We've burned enough daylight today, so I'm not stopping unless you really need it. Just promise you'll give yourself the chance to sleep all you need tonight."

"Um, right." Squinting at the sunlight as she took the lead, he nodded. "I promise."

"Okay." She strode ahead, double-checking her direction before heading back towards the lake. "We ought to make it to Austin today, so be prepared to point the way once we're in the city."

Arthur nodded again, withdrawing an arrow to take down a monster. Really hoping the saved bullets were worth the time, Belle waited for him to get the arrow back, and then she led them off again.

* * *

It wasn't yet noon when Belle saw the bridge. Though the sun had been sapping her energy, she sped up immediately at the sight of the thing.

Obscured by faces of rock until now, the street stretched majestically over the water, its rust-colored arches casting sharp shadows on the asphalt. Once a bit closer, Belle could make out the concrete median and its copies at the bridge's edges crumbling, but as far as she could tell it was only from the warped cars intruding on them. The actual road looked quite fine, and nothing seemed particularly wrong with the supports besides a little flaking paint. She needed no better.

Making sure Arthur was still keeping up, she scurried along the shore drop-off before stepping over the metal railing at the grounded part of the road. Arthur, putting his bow away for now, stomped along after her, getting onto the road with less finesse and more panting.

Belle watched him retrieve his bow from its holster. "You sure you don't need anything to eat?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, uh, I'm fine. I've, um, eaten enough of your food, anyway." He paused to catch his breath at least a little more. "I'll eat something once I shoot it down."

"Wait long enough, and you won't be _able_ to shoot something down."

He drew his shoulders up briefly. "I'll manage, I promise. Let's just, um, keep going."

"All right," Belle said, not convinced but walking ahead regardless. She glanced in both directions before straying into the right line.

"Are there still cars running these days?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"Oh, er—" he scratched the back of his head—"you just seem to be checking for them a lot."

"Ah." She looked at the curves of metal arcing above them. "Habit, I guess."

"I see."

Seeing Arthur turn to shoot down an infected, she stopped, folding her arms. "It only takes one moving car to cause damage, though. Can't be too careful, you know?" Passing a hand through her hair, she was slightly comforted by how clean it was.

"I suppose." He went over to retrieve his arrow. Cleaning it off, he turned back towards Belle and frowned. "Um, are you all right? You seem a bit, er, perturbed?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine." She pivoted on her heel and got back to walking. "There was just..." She sighed. "I didn't know her, and I didn't see it happen. It was a while after the worst of things, when we wouldn't have expected any cars, especially in the towns. But one of my best friends—his little sister was hit head-on by an SUV barreling through. The drivers never stopped, but that wouldn't have made a difference after the collision, anyway." She rubbed her shoulder.

"Oh." He bit his lip, letting his gaze slip onto his shoes. "I'm sorry."

She exhaled. "Yeah. Not fun stuff." Clearing her throat, she watched the bridge top descend as they progressed. "But hey—we're finally crossing the lake. Let's celebrate now and reflect on the worse stuff later, right?"

"Sure." He thumbed a loose belt strap as they sidestepped a lone crashed car.

Wiping some sweat off her forehead, Belle smiled at the lake as it passed beneath. Ahead were trees and houses, not city skyscrapers and certainly not colleges, but that could be changed with a bit more walking. In the mean time, this obstacle was down. She couldn't say how many more would come, but they'd made it past one.


	17. Heat

If the wood weren't cool to the touch, Belle would have thought the houses and trees ignited from the heat today. The two may have been starting to feel better from the encounter with Ludwig and Gilbert, but the sun's rays demanded a lot more rest in the shade than usual. The only productive activity at such times was their downing of whatever water they could glean and clean from swimming pools and other depressions.

Unfortunately, the spots of shadow were becoming quite a bit rarer. The large trees that had at first blocked any hopes of seeing city buildings gradually withered and blackened as they went. The houses showed some burn scars before morphing into char-covered blocks, less and less erect. One house was completely toppled and blown apart. Belle wondered if it had been the original source of the fire, with a gas leak or something. Whenever it happened, the firefighter service apparently hadn't been so great anymore.

Overall the place just looked pitiful, but it wasn't all bad. Blackened or not, sturdy-enough houses still allowed the travelers some shade. Even better, monsters largely stayed clear of the area. Judging from some seared remains, that wasn't because they all ran away.

Getting back to her feet, Belle resisted the urge to drain the rest of her bottle. It was all they had until Arthur's bottle was done purifying. That was still a good ten minutes away.

"Ready to keep going?" she started, extending a hand to Arthur.

He blinked his eyes open and looked up. "Um, yes." After another moment, he swung his arm up, and Belle pulled him to his feet.

When she stepped back into the sunlight, she had a hard time not regretting it. But she had dallied long enough already, and this excursion didn't need to use up any more time than it warranted. She didn't feel faint-headed yet, so staying out of the heat was still only optional.

"You feeling all right back there?" she asked Arthur in case his condition was any different.

"Er, well enough," he said, trying not to trip over a scorched tree root.

Belle nodded, stepping back onto the cracked road. "Tell me if you start getting overheated."

Glancing behind to see him nodding, she turned her eye to the asphalt ahead.

A few blackened houses passed before a pair of figures stirred near a fallen gutter ahead. Belle slowed, but it was obvious, from their height if nothing else, that these were no infecteds. A nasty bite from one was still entirely possible, though.

The brown boxer's eyes had barely locked on her before its chest fur exploded in red. Its yowl mixed with sharp yaps from the black-and-white Shih Tzu as it fell. Then the smaller dog got its own arrow, and all was silent save for a horrified squeak on Belle's part.

Jumping, Arthur turned, looking around her frantically. "Wh-what happened?"

"What do you mean, what happened? You shot..." Unable to look away from the dead dogs, she just hugged her arms helplessly.

"Er..." Looking off to his right, Arthur scratched the back of his neck. "I, um, had been trying for, uh, something to eat, and, well, there they were. And all."

"My aunt had a boxer," Belle murmured.

Arthur shrunk away, seeming quite engrossed in thumbing the bottom of his shirt.

Finally able to glance at her companion, who was taking twitchy steps away from her, Belle took a deep breath.

"Sorry," she finally started, swallowing. "Go—go ahead. Just don't try to feed me any."

"Um, er, right," Arthur responded, rubbing his shoulder and not yet trying to make eye contact. "I'm sorry as well? Uh, I guess I shouldn't have assumed... Well, you must have had, er, other food sources." At that, he wrinkled his nose, and Belle suspected he was thinking of the jerky.

"To each his own," she replied with a short laugh. Cutting off abruptly, she dragged a hand through her hair and checked for any infecteds.

While she wasn't about to watch Arthur skin the poor pets, Belle decided to go ahead and break for lunch. It was about noon and hopefully as hot as the day was going to get. If they were going to stop for an appreciable amount of time, it ought to be now.

Passing the worst of the burnt wood, they took a minute to a decent resting place. Arthur, despite his sleepiness, made quick work of the dogs, and Belle chewed on an energy bar, refusing to watch his meal cook. Unfortunately, it smelled like just about any other meat, but she held out. Arthur needed some extra food after skipping breakfast, anyway.

Belle certainly didn't feel any cooler by the time they stepped back into the sun, but she kept up a brisk pace regardless. Some number of houses passed before the area no longer smelled strongly enough of soot to make her cough.

After shooting down a monster, Arthur paused, peering at a street sign. Belle, plucking at her shirt to get some air moving across her, watched.

"Do you know this place?"

Giving himself a shake, Arthur bent to pull out his arrow. "I don't recognize the houses or anything, but, um, the street sounds familiar." With a shrug, he wiped the arrow clean.

"Hm." Belle glanced at the sinking sign. "Let's follow this road for a while and see if it's anything important, then."

Arthur nodded, and the two resumed walked along the street. He slipped into the lead at some point but soon enough came to a halt. Belle stopped behind him as he stared at the front of a house.

"I think this was his," he finally said haltingly. "My roommate's, I mean."

"Huh. He lived this close?"

Arthur nodded, stepping onto the driveway. "Probably the main reason he went to university in Austin. I really don't think I'm exaggerating when I say he could have gone anywhere."

Belle followed him onto the driveway, where he had stopped. She rocked on her heels for a moment before going still.

"So, are we checking here or not?"

Arthur started. "I'm, uh, still not entirely sure it's his, but, um, I suppose we could check." Scratching the back of his neck, he walked falteringly to the front door but froze there again.

Belle rolled her eyes and knocked for him.

Perched, both strained to listen. Something that could have been footfalls thumped, but the door didn't open. After another moment's pause, Belle nudged Arthur with her elbow.

Frowning, he tried to peer through the peephole to no avail. "Hello? Um, it's Arthur, not a zombie, if anyone inside is, er, concerned about that."

Still no response. A few thuds came from somewhere distant, possibly as far as the backyard, but the door didn't budge.

Belle checked for anything behind them, but only glaring sunlight met her eyes. When she turned back towards the door, Arthur was still looking at it, biting his lip.

"We might as well check before we go any further," she said, sighing. "Here, step back." She grasped the doorknob as he complied.

A slight turn of her wrist proved the door wasn't locked. Unless Arthur's roommate was prone to being careless, this wasn't the best sign. Either no one was there after all, or whoever was wasn't in condition to open the door for them.

Then came a rap, just behind the door, too sharp to be imagined. Looking over her shoulder at Arthur, she motioned for him to have an arrow ready.

"Just in case," she mouthed.

Making sure he wouldn't be in the occupant's line of vision, either, she finally turned the knob all the way and opened the door, staying behind it as it swung.

Thumping footsteps sounded, but no one stepped out of the house. Hoping she could handle Arthur's roommate bleeding out on the entryway floor, Belle released the doorknob and walked to the middle of the porch to look inside. She certainly didn't have to worry about watching panicked eyes and a blood-drained face struggle to fight off death. All of the faces inside had more of a greenish marbling to them.

As if allowing her a moment to withdraw her rifle, the infecteds stared a bit before they all scrambled to charge her. A bullet made one drop immediately, and Belle ejected the cartridge, trying not to trip over the porch stair as she backpedaled to get some distance. When the first monsters had made it past the door's edge, Arthur's readied arrow hit the closest, sending it to topple over its neighbor.

A handful of creatures were all struggling to get through the door at once, but plenty of others had already flooded the porch. The bolt slid back into place only a moment before Belle put another bullet hole in an infected head, but they were still coming fast. Arthur shot another arrow into the thick of the crowd, but apparently another of the monsters had made it too close to Belle for his liking. With a growl, he lunged, crashing his fist into its cheek. The infected tumbled to the ground, tripping up another monster behind it.

"Hey! Don't punch them in the face!" Belle barked before firing on another. Once the ring faded appreciably, she continued, "You could cut yourself on a tooth!"

Shaking his fist out near his quiver, Arthur stepped back next to her. He commented that he was most certainly aware of that, but another gunshot rather obscured his response. With a sigh, he prepared another arrow and let it fly.

By now the monsters had made it past their own roadblock, and, while quite a few were busy tripping over their fallen companions, the group had already pushed Belle and Arthur halfway to the street. Belle's next gunshot was close enough to leave residue on the infected's forehead. Arthur utilized his bow one last time before deciding to heck with it and plowing a shoe into the next monster's ribcage.

Fluidly unzipping her duffel and retrieving a magazine, Belle hurried a few more steps back. "What on earth are so many doing in one place?"

"Having a drinking party?" Arthur offered, slamming an elbow into a zombie's sternum.

Belle just shook her head, prodding an infected away with her rifle barrel as she finished reloading. A roar of gunpowder, and the creature was gone. Another went down after Arthur crushed its windpipe.

The creatures still covered the lawn, but they seemed to have stopped coming out of the house. So many had stumbled that it was difficult to tell which were alive at times, but the two humans kept fighting and shooting. After emptying another magazine, Belle decided there wasn't enough of a threat left to be worth another.

"Can you get the rest?" she started, ejecting the last spent cartridge and swiping a new magazine from her bag.

"Sure," Arthur gasped, kicking another monster away and getting his bow ready. Belle watched carefully as he shot down an infected and stomped on one that had fallen. Another arrow nocked, he paused for a moment to pant before letting it fly into a nearly-vacant eye socket. No other monsters standing, he just tried to catch his breath as he surveyed the corpses. Another creature tried to push itself up, so he loosed an arrow to make it slacken.

Now out of weapons, he stooped to pull an arrow out of one zombie or another. Belle kept an eye on everyone to make sure they weren't ready to attack.

"Do you think you'd recognize your roommate if he were infected?" she started.

"Yeah." Swallowing, he wiped another arrowhead off on the grass. "Um, haven't noticed him here, although, uh, I wasn't analyzing the faces much."

"No worries." Belle moved her hand from the trigger area just long enough to mop more sweat off her forehead. "Go ahead and check while you're at it. I'll let you know if there's anything else creeping up on you." She paused, watching his chest heave. "Or I could just shoot them myself."

Arthur waved his hand dismissively. "I can handle it. I'm just, er—" he planted his foot on an infected to get some leverage—"a bit more winded, given the heat." He ripped another arrow from infected flesh.

"I'll grant you that." Belle wasn't breathing too quietly, either.

The sun scorched on as Arthur went through the silenced battlefield. His last arrow wasn't long in his quiver before he walked back to Belle, shaking his head. "He's not among them, thankfully."

"Good." She picked up Arthur's bucket for him. "We're keeping on to Austin, then?"

Seeming a bit embarrassed, Arthur nodded.

Belle, taking her first few steps away, downed a swig of her water and offered Arthur a drink. Keeping to his side of the bottle, he drank, and the two kept walking. It wasn't long before Arthur had once again taken the lead.

He glanced over his shoulder at Belle before turning back ahead. "I've only been over here once—or twice?" He frowned silently for a minute before shaking his head. "Er, anyway, I certainly don't, um, know the place well, but I may yet retain some remnant of, uh, knowledge of the area, so..."

Belle shrugged. "So what? Keep the lead if you want. I'll tell you if you start walking north or something."

"Er, okay." With a brief nod, he hastened his pace, hoping the university was as close as he thought it was.


	18. Empty

Author's Note: It's difficult to find specific information for some of the setting aspects, so please inform me if I put in any inaccuracies.

Also, please check the poll on my profile and vote if you have an account!

* * *

It took another lake crossing before they came into the city. Keeping an eye on what remained of the street signs, Arthur led silently, fingertips brushing against his fletchings. He hadn't shot anything since cutting across the golf course near the shore. If this was Austin, the city where he had shoved through panicking crowds fleeing from legions of zombies, the quiet was more than unsettling. Then again, there didn't seem to be all that many zombies in general, even in the human-deserted areas. How long did they last?

After a bit more walking, a monster finally emerged from behind a tree, its jaw slack in a growling grunt as it hurried towards them. In its condition, it wasn't able to cover much ground at all before an arrow sent it sprawling. Rubbing his side, Arthur walked over and retrieved the weapon. No other zombies attacked him in the meantime.

He wasn't sure as to whether that surprised him or not. Did he expect groups? Why _would_ they be in groups? He still had no explanation for the houseful of them an hour or so ago, or at least none that would also account for all of the singles he had seen around his pirated house the past few years. Nor was it as if the zombies had once stayed single but were now accumulating; as far as he could tell, they only congregated at random. That was hardly a real explanation, though.

Putting it aside anyway, he glanced over his shoulder to check on Belle before continuing to walk along the street.

Having no reason not to, she continued following him. In general he always gave her the impression he had no idea what he was doing, but now he was striding ahead, checking street signs without commenting or hesitating. That didn't necessarily mean he had to be leading her in the right direction, but it certainly made him seem more capable. At any rate, if they were near Austin, he would know the area a lot better than her.

As she kept an eye out for infecteds, her gaze dragged over houses. Plenty of abandoned homes had crossed their paths already, but that had been no more than a street or a small neighborhood at once. Here, houses were crammed in along the road, block after block, street after street. Dozens, hundreds, must have passed by, coating the ground on either side as far as she could see. And every single one of them was empty. Every single resident dead.

"Wh-what?"

It took Arthur's flustered remark for her to realize she was right behind him, clinging to his arm.

"Nothing," she started breathlessly, releasing her grip and stepping back.

Lightly blushing, he hesitated. "It, er, sounded like you whimpered. Are you, um, sure you're okay?" He looked over her, as if some injury had caused her to seize his triceps.

"Yeah." She inhaled shakily. "Sorry."

"Okay," he replied, though his brow remained furrowed. After another moment, he got back to walking. Belle followed, keeping her gaze on the road just ahead of her feet.

She didn't need to be reacting like this. Hadn't she known? If there were a more reasonable amount of people alive, Killeen would have gotten some help from them. There had to be this many gone. Surely she had figured that out by now.

Still, presuming wasn't the same as seeing. With so many abandoned houses right in front of her eyes, she couldn't push the carnage to the back of her mind so easily. But she still had to. Hunt would have plenty of houses, so she might as well get used to the sight.

Austin had been so huge, though. Maybe that was why anyone had yet to cross their path here. More population density equalled faster spread of infection, which equalled a whole lot more to run away from. Were some of the immigrants to Killeen from Austin? She wasn't sure. She didn't tend to ask people about their lives before they settled down there.

A few footfalls later, her gaze had dragged from her feet to Arthur's. She frowned.

"How long have you had those shoes?"

"Eh?" He looked down at the torn canvas peeking through the few gaps in duct tape. "Er, a while." He poked part of his big toe through a hole.

"Since you first left Austin?"

He nodded, coming to a stop as another monster rustled through branches.

Watching him draw, Belle frowned. "They can't be much good anymore."

Arthur loosed the arrow and shrugged. "Nothing's pierced through them recently. They're not comfortable, and they slip on the smoother parts of the road, but, uh—" another shrug as he approached the infected—"none of the shoes at my house fit, and by the time I decided I could use new ones, well, the closest houses were fresh out."

Belle crossed her arms as he plucked out his arrow. "Keep an eye out for stores that might have shoes, then." She eyed the duct tape, which flashed as he walked. "Those make me nervous."

He exhaled. "All right, if you, um, want to spare the time."

"We can just grab a few boxes in the right size and try them on at meals or something." She wiped off her forehead. "Maybe you'll walk faster with better shoes, anyway."

Arthur's eyebrows sank. "Er, am I walking slow?"

Belle held out a hand with a so-so motion. "Little bit."

Puffing out his chest, Arthur took aggressively greater strides at once. With a laugh, Belle kept up.

* * *

After what seemed like ages to Belle, a few shops crept in between the houses. Within another block or two, taller buildings limited her visibility rather than trees, and the gutted homes passed out of sight. Rolling her shoulders back, Belle exhaled in relief and kept up with Arthur.

As a building with narrow windows slipped past, a dome emerged to their left. By now under the impression the both of them didn't need to keep such a constant lookout for infecteds, Belle peered at the new building as it came further into view. Was it the Capitol? It looked about right, if a little worn, the statue still perched at the top of the dome. This had to be Austin, then. No doubt about it.

Right before she turned back towards Arthur, Belle thought she saw a door slam shut. No one stood nearby, though, and the door didn't open again. Surely she hadn't been imagining it. There must have been a few people still here, after all.

Of course—things couldn't have been _that_ bad. Just because she hadn't seen any survivors in the neighborhood area hardly meant there weren't any. Maybe most of them back there had been holed up in their tornado shelters. That was entirely possible, and a much better idea than staying out gardening.

Although the streets were nearly empty of cars and skeletonized remains, one parking garage was almost full. Abandoned cars, doors flung open and gas tank covers ajar, lay trapped by a crash at the exit ramp. Belle couldn't see well enough to know whether or not all of the owners—and later raiders—had made it out. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.

Directing her attention to the buildings beside them, she investigated their faces. Long and bleak, they certainly did not look like shoe stores. With a frown, she looked ahead at Arthur's shoes just in time to see them moving faster. As they came up to a museum on the left, he picked up his pace even more. Affording a brief glance at the street signs, he hurried onto a wide footpath ahead.

Belle sped up as well, her boot heels clacking on the cement. "I take it you definitely know where you're going now."

"Um, yes," he replied breathlessly. Saying nothing else, he just strode ahead.

Enough matching buildings with various sponsor names on their signs sped past for Belle to realize they had already reached the university. They just had to find the dorms.

Turning left abruptly, Arthur broke into a jog. He cast a glance behind him to make sure Belle was still there, then kept his feet pounding the pavement until he arrived at one of the orange-roofed buildings' front steps. Sucking in a few deep breaths, he tried the door. It swung open without much trouble, and no zombies emerged to bite him. Checking on Belle, who nodded, he went inside.

The halls were dark and cluttered with the occasional abandoned hat or textbook, but Arthur crossed to the stairs without lessening his pace. Belle had to take the steps two at a time to keep up, but Arthur only went to the second floor before leaving the stairwell. With one more glance back, he hurried past several doors and then pulled to a stop in front of the last one. In the sparse light, Belle couldn't make out the room number and doubted Arthur could, but he had gone still enough to have recognized the room otherwise.

Not quite breathing, Arthur reached for the handle.

"Could be locked," he muttered. "Didn't think to bring my key—do I even have it any more?"

Fumbling to check a back pocket with his free hand, he shook his head and looked back at the door. He hesitated for a moment more before trying to turn the handle. It gave, and the door swung open.

Blinking away the dazzle, Arthur stared at the open blinds for a moment before actually seeing the room. The beds stood at opposite sides, their covers unruffled. The desks were empty of everything but their unlit lamps, yet the little bookshelf was still full of textbooks.

Releasing a held breath, he stepped over the ground-down carpet and knelt at the bookshelf. His books were still there, at the bottom. Idly he slid out one from the middle. Texas history, of all things.

"I'm assuming this is the right room." Belle sat on one of the beds.

"Yeah," Arthur muttered, sliding the book back into place. On the shelf above were his roommate's. Even the vague titles were enough to scare away any student of average IQ. Integrative Medicine? Had he been taking a class on that, too? What even _was_ that?

Standing up, Arthur looked over the room and sighed. Just him and Belle.

"I guess I really shouldn't have expected him to be here," he started, wandering to the free bed and leaning on it with his hands. "It was just me when—" he sucked in a breath—"when I decided to flee, and he was off in—what was it? Dallas?"

Shaking his head, he stared at the blank wall.

"It was worth a shot," Belle started.

Arthur neither replied nor budged from where he stood, so she got up and examined the bookshelf.

"What were you looking at this for?" she started, pulling out the Texas textbook.

He looked over his shoulder. "Oh, just at random." He made a face. "Believe me, if that class wasn't required, I wouldn't have been taking it. I've never been much for history—too depressing, you know. But, more than that, the teacher was a madman."

With a dark chuckle, he looked back to the wall, a clearer canvas for the images playing across his mind. "I don't think he realized any of us were taking other courses, let alone trying to—gasp_—enjoy_ the first year of uni." He scoffed. "I honestly can't tell you how many all-nighters I had to pull for his class alone."

His gaze slid to the other bed. "Then again, I'm not sure my roommate ever slept. Usually he was over at a friend's room playing video games, but..." He smiled lightly. "He probably slept through his classes, without being caught, of course. He wouldn't need to hear the lectures, anyway. I'm sure he already knew everything, at least for the first two terms."

"You think so?" Kneeling, Belle slid the history book back into its place.

"From what I've seen him do, yes." Looking back at his wall, he clenched and unclenched his fingers. "Wish I could have survived like that. Maybe I would have had time to do some leisure reading instead of just assignments, you know?"

He exhaled, his bangs stirring from the breeze. "I mean, really. Of all the Dickens we could have been assigned, we ended up with _A Tale of Two Cities_. Another fellow and I—I forget his name; we didn't have any other classes together—conspired to hack into the teacher's computer and replace it with a better assignment." He snorted amusedly. "I suppose it was doomed to fail, since I don't think we ever got Eduard in on it. He must have been busy chasing off fangirls or something. I still don't understand how someone so absurdly geeky could have that many girls after him."

Suddenly Arthur slumped, his fists clutching enough fabric to send a web of wrinkles shooting across the bedspread. Eyes squeezed shut, he croaked, "What on earth has happened to my perfectly good life?"

"Arthur..." Stepping over, Belle put a hand on his shoulder.

He took in a shuddering breath and straightened himself, hastily smoothing out the covers.

"Sorry," he muttered, settling down and dropping his gaze to his scabbed knuckles. After another breath, he put his weight back on his feet.

"No problem," Belle said, giving his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "We all feel that way sometimes."

He exhaled, gazing out the window. "Well, I mean, it wasn't _that_ great. Stupid assignments and all. And you weren't there, so, um…"

Realizing his face was heating up, he shrugged jerkily and walked to the doorway. Not daring to face Belle, he just crossed his arms and examined his shadow. It blended into the dark hallway, unlike the glinting weapon inclined towards his neck.


	19. Violin

Arthur recoiled to the extent Belle had to peek over his shoulder.

In front of them stood a young man of short stature, his sword held up in a defensive position. He shifted back as Arthur took a step into the hallway.

The men watched each other stiffly, both silent, until the newcomer glanced behind him and slid his weapon into its sheath.

Arthur chuckled, hopping between feet before seizing the man's right wrist.

"I know you hate contact but, screw it, we're man-hugging."

With that, the archer did as he promised. The other man allowed himself to be pulled in, though he didn't reciprocate the back thump. Despite the white face mask obscuring his mouth, the swordsman managed to look uncomfortable.

Stepping back, Arthur glanced at Belle, who had by now lowered her gun barrel.

"Um—" still shifting his weight from foot to foot, Arthur cleared his throat—"this is Kiku, my roommate."

"Ah." Smiling, Belle shouldered her rifle and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Kiku. I'm Belle."

Slipping the mask under his chin, Kiku tentatively reached her hand, releasing it after the first shake.

"Pleased to meet you as well," he said, dipping his head.

"So, um." Arthur rubbed his hands together and laughed. "God, I don't know what to say. 'How have you been' seems a bit callous, but, uh..."

"No that's a perfectly acceptable question." Folding his hands together, Kiku inhaled. "I've been well enough. The university was evacuated some time before I made it here, so most of the infected had left as well. There's a decent amount of food about the city still, and there are plenty of things to study to occupy my time."

He looked over his shoulder. "My siblings have survived as well, although not all of them are necessarily... healthy." With a short exhale, he looked back up at them.

"Did they," Arthur started, hands in his pockets, "get hurt fighting the zombies? Your house seemed, uh, rather overrun when we got there."

"Oh?" He glanced at his latex gloves. "I haven't been there a while—I'm sorry. But, yes, they had been injured by the infecteds, though luckily none of them were bitten. Most of the damage came from interacting with desperate humans."

Gripping his knuckles, he met Arthur's gaze. "But that's enough about me. Have you been faring well?" He nodded at Belle. "You at least, um, aren't alone, it seems."

"Ah. Well—" Arthur shifted his shoulders—"I've actually been alone for most of the span that's passed. I only just, um, met Belle..." He looked over at her. "Um, how long has it been now?"

"A little under a month." She shrugged, leaning an elbow on Arthur's shoulder. He twitched beneath her before clearing his throat.

"A month," he repeated breathlessly. "Before that, um, you know. Uh, alone and all. Er, uh..." He picked at his collar.

At the red on his friend's face, Kiku looked to the side in discretion. "I see. It's good to know you're all right now, though."

He glanced at Arthur again, but the archer was still shivering as Belle eyed him coyly.

"Are you tired?" Arthur finally got out. Though his eyes were squeezed shut, it was obvious he wasn't referring to Kiku.

Belle giggled. "Just a little." With that, she slid back off his shoulder, and he resumed breathing a bit more loudly than he had intended.

"So," she started, turning to Kiku, "I guess I ought to give you two a little time to catch up properly." She glanced at the room's window before spinning to look at Arthur, whose face was starting to return to a more normal coloration. "Maybe I can see about some shoes for you."

"Oh. Er—" he thumbed at his quiver—"I mean, I wouldn't want you to go out there alone for my sake..."

Smirking, Belle stroked her rifle. "You know, I made it all the way to your house by myself without getting hurt."

"Well—of course!" Arthur crossed his arms and shifted them, looking at the bookshelf. "I know you're capable, I just, um, don't... you know. It should be the gentleman putting his life on the line for the lady's sake, not vice versa."

"Yeah, yeah. What's the gentleman's shoe size?"

Arthur sighed. "Eleven. Er, no, wait. Um, twelve."

Belle raised an eyebrow, but Kiku tentatively held up a hand.

"Twelve, in U.S. men's sizes."

"Ah, okay." Belle took another step into the hallway before pausing and looking at Kiku. "You know his shoe size?"

"Yes." Kiku pressed two of his fingertips together. "He would, on occasion, cast his sneakers onto my side of the room, so, putting them to the side so often, I couldn't help but notice." His gaze sped from his fingertips to Arthur. "Although it really wasn't _that_ often," he added hastily.

Arthur snorted, leaning into the doorframe. "You flatter me too much sometimes, you know that?"

Kiku exhaled in what may have been his closest approximation of a laugh.

"All right, then," Belle started, checking her rifle bolt. "You kids have fun, and don't burn the house down. I'll be back either after I find some shoes or when evening comes."

"Okay," Arthur replied, although he still frowned.

Kiku paused. "I believe there's an athletic shoe store to the north, on Guadalupe Street," he started, making Belle stop again. "I haven't been there in some time, though, so I couldn't say for sure if it has much left."

"It's a better starting point than nowhere in particular," she replied with a smile. "Thanks. I'll see if I can find it."

"You're welcome." Kiku dipped his head. "We will probably be waiting for you on the front steps."

"All right. See you!" She gave a little wave before a cat-grin flashed across her face. She blew a kiss to Arthur before spinning and strutting away.

Arthur just watched, voice straining to say something but failing. Vaguely he hoped she was doing something other than torturing him, but the only other possibility was so remote he might as well stop thinking about it now.

"Well, then!" he finally started, clapping his hands together and turning towards his roommate with a smile. "Shall we reminisce?"

* * *

It took a bit of walking and one bullet to get to the street Kiku mentioned. Although the day had finally begun to cool a bit, Belle paused in the shadow of the northernmost university building. She didn't really need rest at this point, but she wanted to figure out where that music was coming from.

Sweet and high, the hum of strings glided along a tune before giving way to a section of plucking. Then the strings were again beneath a bow, the song just as cheerful all the while. Not even a hint of static buzzed behind the sound, although Belle doubted there was enough power left to play a recorded piece this loud, anyway.

Without much thought, she drifted towards the music. She wasn't particularly a lover of classical works, but after some time of only natural sounds and pure vocals, it was lovely to hear. The happiness of the tune was an added bonus.

Possibly this could be some sort of trap, but the violinist seemed to have his hands occupied. If he had a friend, Belle still had a gun. And who would be playing out in the open if he didn't want someone to come and listen?

She had already been fairly close when she first noticed the music; soon the player was evident. He stood in front of a multicolored apartment building, an open case at his feet. His faded, tattered clothing made his auburn hair seem all the brighter. After closing a bit more distance, Belle could make out the sign, propped up behind the empty case, asking for food. The man's face was a bit hollowed-out, and his eyes were closed as he continued to slide the bow over the strings.

As such, he didn't notice her until he jerked out three final notes. First he jumped at the sight of the rifle, but, after scampering farther away from the barrel's path, he smiled.

"Good afternoon," he started, setting his instrument in its case to wave his arms a bit.

"Afternoon." Belle surveyed the area again before shouldering her rifle. "That was some wonderful playing."

"Thank you!" He performed a fancy little bow. "Usually now's the time I ask for food, but I'm happy enough to have ended up with a pretty girl in front of me."

Belle laughed. "Aw, shucks." Glancing at the sign behind his case, she added, "Do you get much, doing this?"

Rocking on his feet, he scratched his head. "Not really. But I'm no good at anything else, so..."

"Oh, you can't mean that," she replied, smiling. "Anything?"

With a weak laugh, he shook his head. "No, I'm too weak and klutzy and everything. The only reason I've made it this far is my—" his voice broke, and he watched his foot twist on top of the concrete—"brother."

Belle's expression had just faded when the young man dissolved into tears. Making no attempt to apologize or calm down, he just sat and curled up. Chilled from something other than sweat, Belle carefully stepped over and sat next to him. Slowly she rested a hand on his back, trying not to think about how she could feel his ribs even through his clothes.

"I know what he was thinking," he said, breaths hitching from the tears. "I just—still wish he hadn't, anyway. I would have run before he ever tried to bite me. He didn't have to... Right in front of me..."

Swallowing, Belle just kept an eye out and listened.

After a few more moments of sobbing, the man sat up straight, and Belle hurried to her feet to help him up.

"Thank you," he sniffled, standing up but still wobbling a bit.

"No problem," she said automatically, brushing a hand through her hair.

Scooping up his violin, he looked over the wood. "Is there anything you'd like me to play? I mean, I don't know everything, but..." He balanced the instrument against his neck and smiled at her, though his dirty face was still streaked with tears.

Belle glanced at the sun's position before sighing. "No, I probably don't have enough time for a whole song. Your playing is lovely, though." She looked down at the empty case and the sign, bobbing in the wind behind it.

She then wondered if he had somehow consciously willed his stomach to growl just that second.

Taking a single step away, she looked back at his face. "There don't seem to be many passersby in these parts. How many people stop by here?"

"Not many." He looked out at the street. "Some do come, though. Sometimes people are traveling or coming back to look for people, and then sometimes people just go by without talking so I don't know what they're doing."

He watched his toes wriggle in their sandals. "There are a couple of people that live here and visit." Smiling at her, he added, "Like Kiku. He doesn't talk much, but he really likes old music, and he usually brings me a little food."

"Kiku, really?" She thumbed behind her, towards the university. "I actually just met him. He's chatting with an old friend I'm going to snatch back from him later."

"Oh, cool!" he chirped. "Tell him I said hi, then!"

She grinned. "Will do. Hey—I don't think I caught your name."

"Oh, whoops!" With one last sniffle, he set the bottom of his violin on his foot and extended his free hand. "I'm Feliciano!"

"Belle," she told him, shaking. "Nice to meet you, Feliciano."

"You, too!"

Exhaling, she pulled her gun back out and took another step forward. "Maybe I can come back to visit later. If not—" she smiled—"just keep it up, okay? I'm sorry things have been so hard on you, but everything you're doing out here without even being promised a meal is really nice. I don't care what you say—_you_ have to have guts to still be here. Stay strong."

Feliciano laughed, mouth barely open. "I'm probably not supposed to tell a pretty girl she's wrong, but I really don't have guts." He trailed off, just smiling. "If there's any courage in me, it comes only from God."

With that, he positioned his violin, bow hovering over the strings, but Belle's backpack hit the ground as she squatted next to it. The slightest chirp escaped the instrument before she tore an energy bar in half, wrapper and all, and dropped it in the case.

With a squeak of delight, Feliciano set the violin down and snapped up the food, lifting it to his nose before he tried to pull away enough wrapper to take a bite.

"Thank you," he whimpered.

Belle smiled a bit wider, patting him on the head. "Just keep it up."

He nodded fervently, and she waved goodbye.

A chipper ditty accompanied her exit.


	20. Talking

"So, how long have you been staying here?" Shoulders pressed against the wall, Arthur let his legs dangle off the edge of his mattress. "Enough to have cleaned the place up, it seems." Now that he thought about it, he probably should have noticed the lack of dust when he first came in.

Kiku nodded, watching his roommate's face as if he'd vanish from Kiku's life again if he stopped. "I can't tell you exactly without checking my calendar, but I've been here about two years." He drummed his fingers on his knees. "Our house had been safe enough, but I had always wondered where you could have gone but here. Obviously you did find safety elsewhere, but there were many more books here to occupy my time, and enough space for my family to spread out a bit."

He shut his eyes for a moment. "I'm glad you've come. I can't say I was as certain as I should have been that you survived, but I never lost all hope." A thin light of playfulness flashed in his eyes. "Nor did you, it seems. Perhaps it does pay off to be a bit less of a realist at times?"

Arthur scoffed. "You watch what you say about me. I'm a realist, through and through." With a grin, he hopped off his bed and poked through one of his drawers. "Please tell me you didn't actually fold all of my clothes."

"I had a decent amount of time to myself, so I found no reason not to clean up your things a bit."

"You old man." He pulled out a faded T-shirt and, furrowing his brow, sniffed it. "Did you clean these, too?"

"As I said, I've had a lot of time..."

Tossing the shirt over his shoulder, Arthur snorted. After picking out the sole pair of shorts, he glanced at the door. The absence of every bolt but the deadbolt in the side of the wood made him think he must not have been looking for signs of life at all when he entered.

"Watch the door, all right?" he started, slipping his shoes off. "I might as well change into something not so sweat-stained, and Belle could be back any minute."

At that, Arthur looked at the late afternoon light and hesitated.

Kiku shut and locked the door quietly. "I'm sure she's doing fine. We should wait another half-hour or so before we start to worry."

"I'm not worried!" Arthur exclaimed, flushing. "Wh-why would I be worried about her? I—" He cut himself off, furiously scrabbling at his shirt to take it off.

Making no further comment, Kiku just nodded as he watched the door. Only when Arthur announced he was done did the swordsman turn.

"Let's go ahead to the front steps," Arthur started, tugging the end of his Abbey Road shirt over his waist.

Kiku nodded, leading the way to the stairwell and then to the front door. The two had just stepped outside when a figure came into view at their left. Attempting to balance three shoe boxes on one arm, she waved with her other before wrapping it around the wobbling stack.

Exhaling, Arthur readied an arrow just in case something sneaked up on her while her arms were occupied, but she made it to the front steps without obstruction.

"Looks like everyone survived while I was gone," she started, setting the boxes on the thick banister. "I definitely wasn't the first to find the store since five-finger discounts became legal, but they still had a couple in your size lying around."

"All right." With a sigh, he put a hand on the first cardboard lid. "Sorry to put you through the trouble..."

"Arthur." Belle put her hands on her hips. "I'm a girl. Shoe-shopping is not troublesome."

Arthur paused. "All right, then." As he investigated the first pair of shoes, he added, "Did you find anything for yourself?"

"No shoes, but these are fine, anyway." She tapped a heel on the ground. "I did grab an athletic shirt. It'll be nice to have a spare—" she looked at Arthur sideways—"without a huge hole in the middle of it."

Seating himself, Arthur laughed weakly and took off a shoe. Belle, meanwhile, noticed the blank look on Kiku's face.

"What, he didn't tell you about our first encounter?" She grinned down at Arthur, whose forehead went a bit red.

"Wh-why would I?" He loosened the laces of a new shoe with a bit too much vigor. "We met—that's the only important part."

Kiku chose to push back his cuticles at that time, looking neither of the others in the eye.

Giggling, Belle leaned on the banister and tried to catch Kiku's eye. "Your dork roommate shot me."

"Ah, is that so?" Kiku responded despite seeming like he didn't want to comment.

"There wasn't much light, okay?" Arthur started, frowning as he tugged the shoe on. "And I, uh, had been under the impression there weren't any humans left, so... Right."

"I see." Running out of fingernails to examine, Kiku watched Arthur's feet.

"Almost killed me, too," Belle added, sticking her tongue out at her friend, who cringed.

Kiku folded his hands. "I'm glad he didn't."

Grinning, she leaned back farther across the banister. "I think we can agree on that."

Finally deciding to let him off the hook for now, she turned to Arthur. "So, how's that pair working for you?"

"Um—" he got to his feet—"all right, I guess." He bounced on his heels a bit. "I'm, uh, not really used to fresh footwear anymore, it seems." He eyed the other boxes. "Any chance either of those is, er, a bit less..."

Belle glanced at the bright orange shoes he was currently wearing. "Another pair is red, and the last one is black."

"I'll, um, check out the black ones, then." He sat and unlaced the eyesore pair, and Belle found the box of black shoes for him.

Setting it next to him, she started, "To match your new shirt a little better?"

"Eh?" He glanced at his chest, immediately regretting appearing so out of it as to forget his first real clothing change in months. "Um, yes, I suppose so." Quickly he put on the black shoes. Tying the laces tight, he stood and bounced on the balls of his feet again.

"Well?" Belle crossed her arms.

"Oh, er—" Arthur looked at his feet—"they seem fine." He looked at the near-setting sun and rubbed his elbow. "Yes, um, I'm done, then."

"Great," Belle replied, peeking at the last pair before shutting the lid again. She looked at Kiku. "You don't need any new shoes, do you?"

"No, but thank you," he replied, dipping his head. Following Arthur's unfocused gaze, he glanced at the reddening sun. "Are you going to be staying here for the night?"

Belle exhaled. "We might as well." She glanced at Arthur, who fumbled with the straps of his drawstring backpack. "Only if it's all right, though."

"No, it's no problem," Kiku said. "I hardly use any of the bedrooms, so you're welcome to whatever we can open." He gave a short bow. "And if you'd like, I would be happy to provide dinner as well."

"Are you sure?" Belle caught a flicker of motion in the corner of her eye, but it was only rubbish blowing down the street. "We still have a few things, and I'd hate to cheat you out of a meal."

Kiku shook his head. "It won't inconvenience me at all." He looked at his roommate. "Arthur? Would it be all right with you?"

Arthur managed to stop fidgeting by putting his hands in his pockets. "Of course. Let me know if I can help."

Belle thought she saw Kiku pale, but his expression didn't change.

"No," the swordsman started, "I believe Yao will be enough help. Thank you, though."

Arthur nodded as Kiku opened the door.

"Yao?" Belle started as they gathered their things and stepped inside.

Kiku glanced over his shoulder at her. 'My... older brother. While the rest of us certainly like to help, he does most of the cooking. In fact, he's set up his living area in the cafeteria."

"Huh." Belle vaguely realized she was being led away from the stairwell but didn't feel the need to comment on it. "It sounds like a lot of your clan made it, huh?"

Kiku nodded. "Thankfully." He looked down. "All of my siblings, at least."

Before Belle could open her mouth to respond, Kiku stopped at a door and unlocked it.

"Please be careful not to let any out," he started, turning the handle. "Feel free to play with them as I see to your meal."

Belle and Arthur exchanged a glance before Kiku opened the door just enough to slip through and gestured for them to follow. They stepped inside quickly, and Kiku shut the three of them in for the moment.

While the room was free of personal belongings, the small beds perched at its sides indicated it had, in a past life, been a bedroom. It probably didn't have any human inhabitants; there was little space not occupied by cages. Its occupants were mostly contained, but a few scampered over the floor and the tinted plastic tubes scatted over it.

With a squeal that Arthur thought may have punctured his eardrums, Belle dropped to her knees to investigate the guinea pig nearest her.

"They don't bite, do they?" she started, going nose-to-nose with a light brown one as it sniffed her.

"No, they shouldn't," Kiku replied, sitting down and stroking a black guinea pig. "Please be careful, though. If nothing else, you're a new sight to them."

"Okay." Sitting up, Belle scooped a guinea pig into her arms before glancing up at Arthur. "What?" she started in a petulant voice. "Our macho man doesn't think anything is cute?"

Arthur blinked. "I mean, I think _you're_ cute..." He coughed, adjusting his cargo so he could lie down. "Er, guinea pigs," he coughed. "We're, uh, talking about them! R-right!" He snatched the closest one and set it on his chest. "Um, nothing wrong with, uh, guinea pigs."

Upon catching Belle stifling laughter, he sighed and thunked his head back against the ground. "I need to learn how words work sometime," he muttered, closing his eyes.

With a grunt, Kiku got to his feet. "I'll leave you with these for now," he started, reaching into a cage and tucking its residents between his arm and chest. "Please enjoy yourselves while I prepare dinner."

He bowed his head and was out the door before Belle could completely register the chain of events. She proceeded to hug the squirming guinea pig tighter.

"We're going to be eating these, aren't we?" she whined.

Arthur shrugged, his shirt bunching up against the carpet. That didn't seem to comfort Belle much, though, so he sighed. "Probably. Although I have to admit I can't imagine Kiku killing a guinea pig." He shifted his arms. "He probably gets one of his siblings to do it."

With a disappointed "ohh," Belle stroked the guinea pig in her arms and watched a few others wandering through tubes, completely unaware of their eventual fates.

Arthur tried to figure out what to say, but he was interrupted mid-thought by his guinea pig burrowing under his shirt. With a yelp, he sat up, sending the little thing tumbling off him as he hurried to pull the fabric back down.

Belle laughed, and his face reddened.

"Stupid thing," he muttered, prodding the culprit away when it tried to walk back onto him.

Belle looked at him sideways. "I thought you said there was nothing wrong with guinea pigs."

"Well, that was just my mouth running." He lay back down, glancing at his supplies to make sure no one had gone beyond sniffing them out. "I'm, uh, more of a rabbit person myself."

He watched a guinea pig wander over towards a darker-furred one in the silence that followed. Then he jolted as Belle burst out laughing.

"Wh-what?" Turning on his elbows, he looked over his shoulder.

Gasping for breath, she shook her head. "I'm trying to imagine you playing with bunnies, and it's just not happening."

Arthur exhaled, scratching the side of his head. "Um, all right, then."

After another moment, her laughter finally trailed off. Arthur relaxed a bit.

Eventually the speechless skittering of guinea pigs got the better of him, and he cleared his throat. "So, um, uh, what kind of person are you? I mean, uh, pet-wise. And all." With a silent sigh, he rubbed his forehead. Words. He'd figure them out eventually.

"Hmm, if I had to choose..." Belle crossed her legs, watching a white guinea pig explore around her shoe. "I guess I'd say I'm a cat person. It's hard to resist anything adorable, but—_kittens_." She hugged her guinea pig with a grin.

"Ah." Arthur shifted his legs. "I feel like I should have known that somehow."

"Why?" Still petting her chosen guinea pig, she scooted next to him. "Do I act like a witch or something?"

"N-no!" Apparently not registering her smile, Arthur buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm just going to stop talking, forever."

"Fft." Belle patted him on the back before turning to watch one of the plumper guinea pigs try to get through a blue tunnel. Once it had finished its endeavor, she turned to see Arthur still in the same abashed position.

"You okay over there?" she started.

He opened his mouth but promptly shut it and nodded.

Belle snorted. "Come on, you can't be serious about your little vow of silence."

"It would be better for everyone involved," he mumbled, rubbing his closed eyes.

"Except I wouldn't get to giggle at you," she replied.

"Exactly." He hunched his shoulders. "I don't like looking like an idiot, especially not in front of you."

"Oh?" She let her guinea pig onto the carpet for the time being and lay down on her stomach. "So you don't like me doing things like—" wrapping her fingers around his chin, she tilted his head so his lips almost brushed hers—"this?"

Arthur may have passed out for a few microseconds but snapped to quickly. All he could do was stammer until Belle released him. Sure that all the heat rushing to his face was at the cost of his brain's blood supply, he finally managed to eke out a hoarse, "No, I, um, d-d-don't."

Belle sat back up with a shrug. "Okay, then." With that, she located her guinea pig and proceeded to give it her attention.

Watching, Arthur rolled onto his side. The blood had yet to leave his cheeks, but at least she wouldn't try that again. If she really tried to kiss him, it would be because he had earned it.

Except that was utterly impossible.

"I-I mean," he started, tugging at his collar, "it's, um, it's sort of, er, okay, i-if you want, uh, you know. I, uh, always, er, act like an idiot no matter what happens, so, um, I don't, er, I mean..." He swallowed, turning to face the ceiling rather than see her reaction.

"Well, make up your mind, at least," she said with a grin.

At that moment two distinct raps came from the door.

"Come in," Arthur cried a bit too loudly.

Belle chuckled quietly as Kiku opened the door.

"The first part of the meal is almost ready, so, if you'd like, I can start to lead you over there," he said.

"Sounds good to me," Belle responded, letting her guinea pig down. In the dimming light, it easily blended in with the rest of its companions.

Arthur was already fumbling to get his quiver back on, pushing past Kiku to wait in the hallway. Stretching, Belle followed.


	21. Siblings

The cafeteria was approximately the same as Arthur remembered it. Most of the furniture was stored elsewhere, but the floor was still its well-scuffed self. One long conglomeration of tables stretched across the center of the room, the familiar speckles scattered across the surfaces he could see. The same old chairs lined up at the long table's sides, although in much more orderly a fashion than what some group of chattering girls in colorful outfits all wanting to sit with their besties used to create.

The lack of a crowd was certainly unusual, but the overhead lights were on. Arthur wondered if Kiku's family was using sparse energy just for the occasion, or if they had enough to do this whenever the sun set. Either way, it was nice to have a place with sufficient light at this hour.

"Yao is still occupied in the kitchen," Kiku started as the trio came to a stop, "but I would still like to introduce you to the rest of my siblings."

"Sure." Belle slipped her thumb under the strap of her rifle scabbard. "I'd better get to thank the chef afterwards, though. If the meal's impressive enough," she added with a flash of a smile.

Kiku dipped his head just as a distant door swung open. Turning, he glanced at the man striding through the room and turned back around.

Belle watched, blinking, as the taller man crossed straight out of the room. "Is he not one of your brothers?"

"Ah..." Kiku looked over his shoulder at the second swinging door. "Yes, but... It may be better for you to avoid Jun Gyeong."

As the door swung shut behind Jun Gyeong, Kiku asked Arthur and Belle to stay put as he slipped through a doorway.

Resting her hand on the back of a chair, Belle looked over the table. Straightened groups of silverware framed empty tabletop at each spot. Plastic cups, a few with shallow cracks, held tinted but odorless water. Apparently there weren't enough plates to spare a few for appearances.

Belle wasn't sure what was in store as far as the food went. An odd, charred but sweet smell diffused through the wide room, as did the savory scent of meat she tried to ignore. Both were too faint for her to be certain about them, but these days, food was food. Of course, something fancier than usual couldn't hurt.

With a light squeak, a door released Kiku and another young man, his hair spiky and his T-shirt loose. Both of them helped hold the door open as a young, serious-faced woman pushed a young man in a wheelchair through. Three others who were visibly younger than the rest followed, and Kiku let the door swing shut.

"He has this many siblings?" Belle asked Arthur under her breath. He just lifted his shoulders in response.

"Everyone," Kiku started once the gang had assembled appreciably close, "this is my old roommate, Arthur. I don't believe you've ever formally met him."

Arthur lifted a hand in a frozen wave of greeting.

"And this is Belle," Kiku continued, gesturing to her. "She's been travelling with him."

Without actually gripping the sides of her capris, she did a little curtsy. "Nice to meet you."

Kiku nodded, clasping his hands together. "My eldest brother is cooking, so I'll have to introduce you to him later."

"But for now!" The man in the wheelchair thrust his hands at the wheel rims, sending the chair flying out of his sister's grip and flashing directly in front of Arthur and Belle. The latter felt the need to take a step back, but wheelchair stopped a bit before it could actually run into her.

"Yong Soo," Kiku's brother announced, holding out a hand. He was fairly muscular, his shoulders broad, but one leg was missing below the knee, and the other foot seemed a bit too short. Neither amputation had any effect on his wide smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Yong Soo," Belle said, making some effort to avoid staring at his legs as she shook hands. Arthur just acknowledged him with a nod.

"I'm the real eldest brother," said Yong Soo, backing up a bit. "Yao just happened to be born a little earlier."

"All right, then," Belle replied, rubbing her hands together. After a second of awkward silence, she added, "I was born second in my family, but Tim's definitely still the eldest."

"So, speaking of middle sisters—" spinning his wheelchair, he gestured with both arms towards the young woman—"my little sister and chauffeur through narrow spaces, Lien!"

Seeming a bit uncomfortable with both Belle's and Arthur's attention, Lien rearranged a torn handle of the wheelchair.

"Hey, Lien," Belle said with a wave.

Lien, her facial expression yet to change, bowed. "Pleased to meet you."

Allowing a short pause after his sister stood straight, Kiku made eye contact with the spiky-haired man.

"This is Kamon."

"Lien's twin brother. Fraternal, of course," Kamon continued, holding out a hand to shake. "Poor Kiku's probably upset he didn't get to introduce the male twin first." Still smiling, he shot a glance back at Yong Soo and raised an eyebrow. The amputee just threw his arms in the air in an exaggerated shrug.

"Nice to meet you in whatever order," Belle laughed, shaking with Kamon, who then managed to coax a handshake out of Arthur as well.

"And my youngest brother is Li," Kiku said quietly, not quite recovered from either the lack of order or from Kamon's comment on it.

A young man with a face as serious as Lien's but much more marred took a step forward and gave a little bow.

Arthur squinted at him. "Leon?"

Li tilted his face so that he was at least approximately looking Arthur in the eye. "That's my other name, don't wear it out."

"Been a while," Arthur said, making no effort to avoid staring at the slashes across the face in front of him.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm pleased to meet you for the first time," Belle said, foregoing the handshake since she wasn't sure Li would be able to tell if her hand was extended.

"How come I have to meet them last?" started the youngest girl, pouting at Kiku.

"Well—"

"My name's Mei," she continued, stepping in front of her brother to hold out a hand. Everyone calls me Mei-Mei, though."

"Nice to meet you, Mei-Mei." Belle shook her hand. "I've been called Bel-Bel on occasion, but definitely not by my brothers." She laughed.

"And then I'm the Portuguese cousin," the last man started, holding out a hand. "Marcos."

"Pleased to mee—"

With a crash, the doors to the kitchen swung open, a dish-laden metal tray rolling through.

"Food's ready," hollered the man pushing it as he stopped next to the table.

As Belle quickly shook Marcos's hand, some of the siblings left their chairs and drifted towards the tray.

Among them was Kiku. "Please choose any seat you like," he said, carefully picking up a dish.

"All right." Belle looked over the chairs. Everything was set; no one place looked better than any other. She glanced at Arthur. "Any preferences?"

"What? Ah, no." He scratched his head.

She took a few strides. "To the middle, then. Easier to talk to everyone."

"Um, right." He followed, sitting at her left and crossing his legs.

Two thumps on the table later, both visitors had plates, courtesy of Marcos and Mei-Mei. Small pieces of fried meat were mixed with strips of eggplant and several different green things, most of which Belle could not identify. That didn't put much of a damper on the smell, though, and it took a significant amount of willpower for her to wait as the rest of the group received their plates.

Arthur was twisting the butt of his fork in the tablecloth when the chef sat down a seat away from him.

"Arthur and Belle, right?" he started, wiping off his forehead with one hand and extending the other. "I'm Yao, the eldest."

"Nice to meet you," Belle called from where she sat. Muttering the same, Arthur shook Yao's hand out of necessity.

"Hope you like the meal," Yao finished, turning to his own.

"Me, too," Belle hummed, forking a piece once the cook took a bite. After a brief examination, she bit down on the piece. Snow pea. A little rubbery, but covered in a tangy sauce and characteristically crisp nonetheless.

* * *

_"Well? Any good?"_

_Shoulders hunched under the blanket, she continued chewing. "Yeah." _

_Honestly, she was more concerned with the weak but warm fire in front of her. The bowl of food may have warmed her hands, but she needed to keep her face closer to the flames. Between the nearness of the flicker and the dimness of the room—certainly no windows down here—she could only see a sliver of her brother's side as he exhaled. _

_"Good." He nudged her backward a bit and gave the food one last good stir over the fire. "I didn't think it had thawed out too much."_

_She made a noncommittal sound and thrust her fork blindly into the pan. She ended up with one of those miniature corn things. Usually she thought these were cute. This one disappeared down her gullet a bit too quickly for that._

_A scrape as Tim took his first piece of the freezer stir-fry. An extra patch of warmth as he put his gloved hand on her shoulder._

_"Feeling all right?"_

_She looked up at the ceiling. As if in response, some other creature clanged on the cellar door._

_With a sigh, Tim stayed silent, giving Belle's shoulder a squeeze before snagging another mouthful for himself._

_She chewed slowly on a piece of chicken that had obviously been freezer-burnt. It was still a lot better than more crackers and canned tuna. She should have been celebrating. But the fire was dying, Tim would have to go outside for more wood, and he wouldn't let her cover him even though there were multiple perfectly-good guns down here to use. So she'd just have to huddle up and pray the only family she had left wasn't going to get himself killed._

_No—Claus could have made it this far without them. Their parents could still be out there somewhere. It had been months, but... Maybe, somehow..._

_But those were empty words._

_With a shuddering sigh, she jabbed her fork in the pan again._

* * *

Even now, a shiver went down Belle's arm. But she took a deep breath, and the scent of this sauce was fresher and more orangey. Slipping back into the present, she got a swig of water before resuming her meal.

How _was_ Tim doing? He knew how to take care of himself, and the village was a lot safer now, but that didn't mean accidents never happened. Worrying wouldn't help anything, though. If he finally trusted her enough to let her go out, she could trust him enough to let him stay.

"Belle?"

Swallowing, she looked up at Arthur. His eyes betrayed concern, but something a bit lower on his face made her almost spit out her food giggling.

"Wh-what?"

Coughing, she took a drink. "You got a little something..." she scratched at her left cheek.

Arthur reddened just enough the smear of sauce blended in. "Oh, gosh." Roughly he wiped off the mess with his hand before seeing the napkin at his place and pausing.

Belle tried not to laugh too hard as she took another bite, waiting for a good place in the family's conversation to jump in.


	22. Leave

Author's Note: Well, the second Camp NaNoWriMo of the year has arrived, and so I'll be writing this a bit quicker. I will also be editing this a bit slower. Hopefully it will average out to faster updates.

Thanks for the support!

* * *

"Have you all stuck together?" Belle started, pausing before she felt the need to clarify. "Since the beginning of all this?"

"More or less," Yao started.

"Except he—" Kamon thrust an elbow in Kiku's direction—"was hanging by himself in Dallas for a while."

Kiku, trading glances with the several sets of eyes on him, sped up his chewing and swallowed. "It was a bit of a struggle to get back from the convention."

"Oh, yeah, that," Arthur responded. "How was it?"

Kiku blinked, eyebrows lowering. Obviously one convention four years ago wasn't still at the top of his mind. "Fine, thank you."

"Fine?" Yong Soo repeated, flinging his arms in the air. "I think getting a free katana counts for more than fine."

"Oho, so you swiped a sword, did you?" Arthur responded, eyeing Kiku sideways.

"I had to defend myself somehow." He shifted his shoulders, sitting further back in his chair. "The vendor was quite ready to give them out at that point, anyway, if we were to help him fight off the infecteds."

"And so—" Mei-Mei brandished her fork in the air, arm stretched taut—"our valiant hero smote the..." Trailing off, she bit her lip. "Are there any good Shakespearean terms for zombies?"

Belle shrugged, jabbing a thumb in Arthur's direction. "Ask the one who has _Hamlet_ memorized."

"Memorized?" Li leaned his elbows on the table. "For reals?"

"Er..." In contrast to his roommate, Arthur seemed to chew a lot slower when called upon. "Yes..."

Marcos interlaced his fingers. "Mind if we have a sample?"

Giving up on stalling, Arthur swallowed and cleared his throat. "If you insist..." He looked about the table, and more members than Marcos nodded.

"Fine, then." Taking a swig of water to disguise his sudden grin, he leaned back in his seat. "In lieu of the more famous soliloquy that anyone else could have committed to memory..."

Putting on a loftier accent, he began, "How all occasions do inform against me,

And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,

If his chief good and market of his time

Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.

Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,

Looking before and after, gave us not

That capability and god-like reason

To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be

Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple

Of thinking too precisely on the event,

A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom

And ever three parts coward, I do not know

Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'

Sith I have cause and will—Oi!"

He leapt to his feet, dishes rattling as his thighs bumped against the table. "How dare you interrupt the words of Shakespeare!"

Yao and Li awkwardly cut off their conversation, eliciting a few snickers from Mei-Mei and Belle. Kamon, still watching Arthur, seemed confused as to why he didn't remember this part of the play.

"Sorry," Yao started slowly, leaning away from the incensed archer. Li just shrugged.

"That," Yong Soo declared, grinning, "did not seem sincere enough!" His fork barely tilted back suspiciously before he catapulted a shred of cabbage at Li's nose. Blinking, the younger sibling reached to peel it off at the same moment Yao slammed his hands on the tale, standing up.

"We do _not_ waste food in this house!"

Tittering, Yong Soo licked his fork clean. "It's not a waste if we're having fun, right?"

"I could second that," Marcos said slowly, placing a yellowed piece of snow pea on his fork. Lien grabbed Kamon's wrist before he could do the same.

"No," Yao maintained, nudging his chair back with his heels. "Food is for eating, and for eating only! Since you—" he narrowed his eyes at Yong Soo—"want to act like a child, you can be punished like one. Lien! Where's your paddle?"

Yong Soo trailed off to a weak chuckle as his sister straightened up.

"Don't worry about it," she said before turning towards the amputee. "I'll take care of this myself."

As she stood, the blood drained from Yong Soo's face. "I mean, Big Bro's in charge, so h-he should deal the punishment, right?" He looked to Yao desperately, but the eldest just laughed.

"Thank you, Lien," Yao said, sitting back down with a smirk.

Yong Soo watched wide-eyed as Lien walked away from the group. She was clearly heading towards the paddle lying across a distant cafeteria table before he suddenly backed himself away from the table.

"Hey—" Yao started, but Yong Soo saluted a goodbye and, hands flying across the top of his wheels, sped towards the nearest door.

"Yong Soo!" Snatching her weapon, Lien charged after him.

Kamon shoved his chair back, getting to his feet as the door shut behind the wheelchair. "First to catch Yong Soo gets the rest of Lien's bowl!" he hollered.

"Wait—" Lien started, looking over her shoulder, but the other siblings had already left their seats, and she would run straight into the door if she hesitated. Shaking her head, she just slammed the panel open and hurried after her older brother.

Exactly who was in the race for the food wager and who was trying to stop it was unclear, but within a minute only Kiku, Arthur, and Belle were left at the table. Kiku rubbed his forehead and repeated apologies under his breath. Belle tried to finish her food between snorts of laughter.

"I never even got to the eggshell line," Arthur huffed, crossing his arms.

Bursting out laughing afresh, Belle nearly spewed bits of food across the table. "I'm sure you'll get another chance."

Unable to help smiling, Arthur scraped the last remnants off his bowl.

* * *

"Would you be interested in breakfast?"

Arthur took a second to spit a mouthful of diluted toothpaste down the oddly-clean sink. "Of course. Would you be interested in providing it?"

"_Ar_thur!" Belle exclaimed, brush still in her hair as she slapped a hand to one hip. "He already got us a good supper. You could at least thank him before mooching more food off his family."

Arthur energetically replied, but the toothbrush across his tongue made the words impossible to discern. Removing it, he repeated, "I did thank him! Last night, while we were staying up jabbering each other's ears off." He paused. "At least, I was jabbering his ears off. He didn't look too annoyed, though." He shot Kiku a sideways glance.

"I don't mind." Kiku folded his hands as Belle chuckled and resumed brushing.

"I have nothing against being served breakfast," she started, suppressing a yawn, "but only if it's really no trouble."

Kiku nodded. "I assure you it's not."

"And—" Belle tittered—"no guinea pigs, please?"

"Of course."

"Especially not Pichi," Arthur threw in.

Such a look of horror crossed Kiku's face that it could well have been a reaction to Arthur suggesting cannibalism. "I would never let them kill Pichi!" Apparently just now realizing he was exhibiting emotion, he swallowed and rubbed a rust spot off the spigot.

Giggling harder, Belle fluffed up her bangs one last time and tossed her brush in her bag. "Your favorite guinea pig?"

"Ah..." Kiku investigated another of the shining faucet heads. "Pichi was my pet before we started farming them, so yes. It's wonderful that she survived with us. Pochi, my dog, was not so lucky." With a sigh, he scraped a spot off the sink.

"I'm sorry," Belle said with a frown.

"No, it's all right now. I do get to handle a good number of guinea pigs now. It's hardly a proper replacement, especially when I cannot grow too close to them, but it is at least some... sane companionship."

Belle laughed. "Always good to have some other than family." She glanced at Arthur. " 'Sane' may be a bit of a stretch for him, but he's close enough."

"So I'm your pet guinea pig," Arthur responded, putting away his toothbrush.

Belle grinned. "And you can even do tricks."

"Like blushing at your command," Arthur mumbled.

"But of course."

"If you don't mind," Kiku started, "we can see to your breakfast now. We have more of a come-and-go system than dinner, although Yao still ensures no one takes too much."

"Works for me," Belle said, shouldering her lighter duffel. "Arthur?"

"Yes, let's."

With a dip of his head, Kiku led them into the hallway, down the stairs, and outside the dormitory building. The sun had risen, but the grass shimmered faintly with specks of water, and the morning was still cool. If it could only stay like this all day, Belle could make excellent travel time. Now that she thought about it, it would have been a good idea to build a dew trap last evening, since she was knew she was safe enough to stay in the same place all night. There were still other ways to get water, though, and they would end up crossing the lake again on the way out. Kiku's family would probably give them drinks with breakfast, anyway. Not an issue of urgency.

The three entered the cafeteria. With the only light shining in through the windows and the absence of tablecloths, it almost could have passed for a different place. The long line of tables was still as intact as it was the night before, although it had obviously been straightened up since the mad exodus. Li and Marcos were sitting together, spooning dry cereal into their mouths and washing it down with water. None of the other siblings were to be seen, but, by the lack of change in Kiku's demeanor, it wasn't anything unusual. Then again, most nothing was unusual if Kiku's expression was the measuring stick.

The swordsman led Belle and Arthur into the kitchen, where a few naked bags of cereal were stationed across a counter.

"Take some of any kind you like," Kiku said, retrieving a few salad bowls from overhead cabinets. "We would prefer that you limit yourself to one serving, if possible."

"And by 'if possible'," Arthur said, looking sideways at Kiku, "he means he'll impale us otherwise."

Belle snorted as Kiku slid one of the bowls to her. "He wouldn't impale us." Her gaze flicked up to the Asian. "Right, Kiku?"

Kiku opened up one of the bags before looking up and blinking. "What? Oh, um, no, I wouldn't."

"That sounded honest," Arthur commented sarcastically, standing in line for the cereal Kiku was getting.

The swordsman silently doled out his rations and fetched some spoons.

Laughing without being completely sure as to why, Belle opened what appeared to be chocolate-flavored cereal and poured some into her bowl.

"Thanks for this, though," she started, clipping the bag closed. "It's nice to have a more traditional meal sometimes, instead of a little jerky, and some squirrel or—" she raised her eyebrows at Arthur—"_dog—_or other wildlife."

"I never made you eat any dog," Arthur mumbled, stepping up to pour his cereal.

"Still." Grinning, Belle followed Kiku to the clean-looking pot of water on the stove. "It'll be nice to have a sugar rush for the first hour of walking."

Arthur clipped up his bag of cereal before doing a double-take. "Wait, we're leaving today?"

Belle looked over her shoulder at him as Kiku divvied up some water for them. "We have to go eventually. I love the free meals, but I can't overstay my welcome—and, of course, Claus is waiting for me."

"Ah—" Arthur scratched the back of his head, watching Kiku—"of course."

Taking her cup of water with a thanks, Belle turned back to Arthur. "I mean, you could stay if you really want to. If _I_ ran into a best friend I hadn't seen in years, I'd want to hang out with him a while longer, too." She smiled. "I won't be offended or anything."

"Uh, no, I, um..." Arthur looked between the two of them and swallowed. "I'll leave with you. Um..." He looked back to Kiku.

After leading them into the dining area, Kiku set his breakfast down on one end of the long table without taking a seat.

"Please allow me to ask Yao about something." He paused, glancing at the two travelers. "Would you mind terribly if I were to go with you?"


	23. Crush

"I wouldn't mind at all," said Belle, clapping her hands together. "The more, the merrier, right?"

"Yeah," Arthur responded, giving his roommate a nod of approval. Maybe it would no longer be a private quest with Belle, but that was better than having to choose between her and Kiku. Apparently she had yet to show any particular interest in Arthur, anyway. That certainly didn't surprise him, but her dismissing his presence so easily still felt like a shaft splitting his heart.

On the other hand, she seemed fine with keeping him along for the ride. That was something. And Kiku was gladly giving up some portion of his safe life here for his sake, so there was no reason to feel depressed.

Arthur watched Kiku walk away before turning to observe Belle. She had already started on her breakfast, but that didn't keep her from noticing his gaze.

"It's been so long since I've had anything chocolate," she said, swallowing a dry mouthful and washing it down. "This is just artificial flavoring, of course, but still." She fingered a lock of hair. "I wonder if I'll run across any real chocolate that's still good. There has to be some somewhere, wouldn't you think?"

"Surely." Arthur twirled his spoon around in his bowl. "Most everything is past its sell-by date now, though, so it depends on what you consider 'good.' We may have to steer our next journey a bit farther south and fiddle with the cacao beans ourselves."

Belle smiled. "That would be fun." She returned to her meal without making any remark on his suggestion of another journey together. No news was good news, right?

The two returned to their meals and made it about halfway through before Kiku returned.

"So, what's the verdict?" Arthur started as Kiku sat down.

Taking a sip of water, Kiku rested his arms on the table. "Yao will send me off with about two weeks' rations, so I won't be a burden on you in that respect. I'll also bring some other supplies, but only enough for me to carry without assistance."

"Sounds great." Belle scooped up a spoonful of her cereal and looked at it. "Any chance you can bring some of this for your breakfast rations?"

After a moment of no reply from Kiku, she continued, "I'd trade you for it, of course. I still have a few energy bars that are pretty good." She laughed suddenly. "And what kind of lunch did your mom pack you, Arthur?"

Arthur blinked, lifting his head from his hands. "Peanut butter and jam, as always."

Belle giggled. "You mean 'jelly,' you crazy Brit?"

"No, I most certainly don't." Arthur sniffed. "It would be absurd to put jelly on a sandwich. You wouldn't even eat it for a meal." Looking down at his cereal, he paused. "Wait, did you ever actually eat that?"

"Yes, yes," Belle said quickly. "And you did a fine job of cooking it. So, Kiku, the cereal?"

Kiku, mid-bite, took a minute to catch up to the conversation. "Yes, I should be able to do that. I'm afraid it will take me a bit of time to pack everything, but I hope I can make up for hindering you."

"No, it's no problem," Belle replied, waving her spoon dismissively. "Take half the day, and you still won't have gotten me stuck any longer than he did." Her eyebrows stretched too high to be taken seriously, she shot a accusative glance at Arthur, who laughed weakly.

"Or I could always help you with it," she added, nibbling on the end of her spoon.

"I'm sure that would help; thank you."

Arthur, finishing his last bit of cereal, dropped his spoon in the bowl. "I might as well lend a hand, unless you'd rather me get a head start on securing some lunch."

Belle shrugged. "Whichever you'd prefer. Either would save time."

"All right." Arthur stood, pushing his chair in and leaning with his palms on the table. "I think I'll go ahead and hunt. Should we meet in front of the dorm building?"

"Works for me," Belle said, finishing off her cereal. "Good luck, and don't get bitten."

"Same to you." Arthur stood up, thumbing his bow sling for a moment in case she wanted to say anything else, and walked to the door.

Kiku quickly swallowed the rest of his breakfast and was still chewing when he got to his feet. After draining his cup of water, he targeted the latest arrival to the cafeteria.

"Mei-Mei, would you mind taking care of our dishes?"

Blinking, Mei-Mei paused a step away from the kitchen. "No problem."

"Thank you." Kiku took a step away from the table and glanced at Belle, who left her empty bowl and noted that Arthur hadn't been too worried about his.

"Let's go," she said, loading her baggage up and following Kiku to the door.

The air outside had yet to heat up much despite the mid-morning sun. Lost time or not, Belle was sure it would be a fine walking day. Her newest companion was certainly a quick enough walker so far, and he hardly seemed the type to request any extra destinations for his sake. He'd be slower after weighing himself down with supplies, but maybe then she could at least keep up with him. Odd thought when she definitely had the longer legs here.

She wordlessly stepped into the dorm building after him and went up the stairs, Kiku opening the door to his room as she strode in.

"If you wouldn't mind," he started, opening a drawer, "could you roll up an outfit or two while I fetch some bags from another room?"

"No problem." Belle picked up a carefully-folded white shirt as Kiku expressed his thanks and stepped outside.

She had rolled up two sets of shirts and shorts and was looking for socks when Kiku returned. He only just registered what was yet missing from the wardrobe before he hurriedly approached the bed.

"Please put those in here," he said, opening up the bag and setting it on the bed. "I'll take care of the rest."

Belle nodded, cramming the shirts in one side of the bag as Kiku knelt at a lower drawer. Sliding it open, he plucked out a few articles, rolling them behind his back, and nudged the drawer closed with his foot. He risked a glance at Belle, who grinned but turned back to the bag.

"Don't worry," she said. "I don't think you'd be that fun to embarrass. Especially compared to Arthur."

Kiku paused as she put in the shorts. "That's an odd thought."

"How so?" Finished, she stepped back from the bag, and Kiku quickly hid his spare underwear under what she had already packed.

"Usually... He may flush a bit, but he's much more likely to strike or snap at someone than, ah, act how he has been. He must really care for you." Throwing in a few socks, he moved on to where his toiletries sat in the closet.

Smiling, Belle held a plastic freezer bag open for him. "There's no denying he has a crush on me. I feel like we'll still have a good relationship once he recovers from that, though."

"Are you sure it's just a crush?" Meeting her gaze for a second, Kiku ensured his toothbrush was clean before he put it in the bag.

Belle leaned her hip against the bed frame as Kiku continued to pack. "He was like this from the moment I met him, so it can't be much else." She shrugged. "I think he's getting a little more comfortable around me, though, so that's good."

Kiku nodded, throwing in some nail clippers before asking Belle to seal the bag. "I suppose it has been quite a while since we lived in the same room, so he could have changed from being on his own. In any case, it's strange to see him like this."

"Huh."

As Kiku took up the bag and led the way to the next room with supplies, Belle tried to imagine an Arthur that snarled instead of stammered. He had certainly displayed a less-than-friendly reaction to Ludwig beating her to the ground, but that was a far cry from someone batting her eyelashes at him. If the new Arthur seemed odd to Kiku, the old Arthur was just as strange a concept to her.

Kiku unlocked the next bedroom door and stepped inside, adjusting the blinds so they could see. Lines of whitish daylight flooded the room, but Belle still couldn't identify most of the items on the beds and desks. Boxes obscured most of the supplies, and even when Kiku removed one container's lid, Belle didn't know what to make of the pale, rectangular stone inside. Kiku put three of them in his bag before Belle gave up on decoding the things herself.

"What are those?"

Kiku put a cylindrical box in with the other things. "Blade sharpeners and cleaners. I try not to use my sword much, but it's still a valuable weapon and deserves the proper attention."

Belle nodded, watching him pack another parcel. At this rate, that slim sword was going to give him more of a load than her duffel of bullets.

"So do you just avoid infecteds, or use a different weapon for them?"

"I always try to avoid them. If that's not possible, I'd rather take them down without dirtying any weapons. Of course, when there are several infecteds, or too many wounds to risk touching, the katana is a better choice."

"Makes sense." Belle held his duffel bag open as he finished loading. Two weeks' worth of food wasn't about to fit in the remaining space, so she wasn't flabbergasted when he claimed the medical supplies would go in next. It was a bit more of a surprise when he left the dorm building and kept walking.

"We only keep a bit of emergency medicine near our rooms," Kiku explained, repeatedly adjusting the shoulder strap of his bag. "Most of the equipment we salvaged is stockpiled in an old classroom."

"Lots of stuff, huh?"

Kiku nodded. "I'll bring along quite a bit, since I'm more likely to use it on a journey than staying here. Hopefully not everything will come in handy, but it's best to be prepared."

"Amen to that." Belle eyed an infected on the horizon, but it didn't seem able to perceive them from such a distance. "I have a good amount of bandages yet, so don't worry about having to pack any of those. I can share."

"Thank you. I'll be happy to share my supplies as well." Kiku led the way inside a building and down a hallway chilly enough to give Belle goosebumps. Another turn of the key later, they were inside the medical stockroom. At least, the room had some odd smells to it, and Kiku came to a stop; only when his flashlight turned on did some of the thick shadows recede. Black-topped desks stood in intervals, sinks with odd nozzles covered in clear plastic at most of their middles. Shelves bowed slightly under multitudes of boxes and bottles, and the counters and corners were covered with everything from IV stands to blood pressure cuffs.

Belle almost laughed. Didn't everyone have high blood pressure these days?

"Please take care not to stumble on anything," Kiku said, setting his bag on the ground. "Would you mind following me and holding that open?"

"No problem." Picking up the bag by the shorter straps, she trailed Kiku through the makeshift warehouse. The flashlight beam slipped over every type of medicine imaginable, and Kiku stopped seemingly at random to add another container to his bag. By the time they had circled the outside of the room, Belle doubted the gaping zipper would close without much effort. Kiku asked her to stay near the door and close up the duffel as he opened up a smaller satchel and navigated the inner aisles.

As she engaged the zipper in battle, Belle found her mind wandering back to Arthur. Was he really in love with her? Obviously it had begun with a crush, since he started off not knowing her at all. Since then... Some time had passed, but she had had crushes for longer than a month. She certainly hadn't risked her life to break her crush out of the grip of people like Ludwig, but she didn't exactly have the chance those days. Besides, she was sure she'd do things that dangerous for Arthur, and she wasn't in love with him. Right?

Right. He was just a good traveling companion. No—a friend, by this point. At any rate, she owed it to him to stop flirting so much. It may have been a bit mean if he just had a crush, but the amusement overweighed his embarrassment. If he was honestly in love with her, then she was just jerking on his strings like a... well, jerk.

Yeah, she'd have to stop that. It may have been her main source of entertainment, but Arthur was some fun aside from being flustered. He was a good friend, and he deserved a little more respect.

"Belle?"

For a minute, she was confused by the voice. Then she realized she was currently with Kiku.

"Yes?"

"If you'd like, we can see if Yao has my food rations ready."

She watched the glow of his flashlight draw closer to the door. "Sounds like a plan."


	24. Trigger

By the time Belle and Kiku finished packing and saying goodbye to the family, Arthur was sitting on the stairs at the front of the dorm building. He got to his feet as the others approached.

"Find anything?" Belle called, pushing some stray hair under her ribbon.

"Yes. I got lucky." Standing, Arthur lifted his catch by the already-skinned leg. "I found this fellow rummaging through some rubbish before I even got out of the main city. Raccoon isn't exactly gourmet, but he's big enough to feed the three of us, if Kiku's all right with eating some."

Kiku didn't respond until Belle glanced at him, lifting her eyebrows.

"Thank you," he started, "but I do have my own food supply."

"Yes, but that's food you can keep for two weeks." Arthur swung the ex-raccoon a bit. "This expires in a few hours. Belle and I could probably finish it if we stuffed ourselves, but it would be easier to split three ways."

By now, Kiku had come to a stop in front of the steps. "If you really think so..."

"Yeah, yeah." Arthur hastily wrapped the meat in its former skin and descended the stairs. "We'll have to treat you eventually, anyway, since your family treated us."

"All right." With a short bow, Kiku stepped out of the way, letting Arthur get closer to Belle.

Watching him come forward, Belle clasped her right wrist and stretched. "Good job; I'm sure it'll cook up nicely. Ready to head out?"

Arthur nodded, and Belle checked the sun before leading the way. Kiku cast a glance back as the last orange roofs passed by, but he made no comment.

Squinting at his roommate shambling after him, Arthur frowned. "Did you need any help with those?"

"No." Kiku at once made an effort to straighten himself up despite the several bags hanging from his shoulders. "I'm all right, thank you. I just have to accustom myself to the weight, as I haven't been carrying much recently."

"If you say so." Brows knit dubiously, Arthur turned his eyes back to the road. "I can handle another one if you ever need me to."

Kiku dipped his head. "I will keep that in mind."

Belle looked over her shoulder at Kiku. "Can you even fight like that?"

Pushing one bag farther back along his knee, Kiku nodded.

Belle frowned at him, unconvinced, but shrugged. "I'm sure we'll be able to get everything before it comes too close, anyway. Or I will, since Arthur has is hands full at the moment."

"Just until we stop to eat," Arthur clarified, lifting his catch to keep it from snagging on overgrown lawn weeds. "Come afternoon, I can get back to shooting."

"Fine by me." Belle brushed some dirt off the top of her rifle. "Hopefully we don't run into any mobs."

The group lapsed into silence as the business buildings alongside them morphed into houses. Leaving bootprints to the left of the road, Belle shot down an infected and tossed the empty cartridge into a toppled plastic trash bin. Doing her part to can litter. Not that she wasn't the main source of refuse wherever she went, nor did she ever really go out of her way to put it up properly. But a little effort was better than absolutely none.

Arthur watched the cartridge clunk into the dirt-brown wheelie bin, his eyebrows and a corner of his mouth raised. Kiku was too focused on his baggage to notice.

Dropping her voice, Belle started, "Hey, Arthur?"

Arthur blinked. "Er, yes?"

She chewed on her cheek for a second, making sure neither Kiku nor an infected was ready to interrupt. "I'm sorry for sounding so ready to send you away."

From the still-blank look on his face, Arthur didn't really seem to have heard what she said, but she continued anyway.

"I kind of forced you into a false dilemma back there, and I didn't even sound sad to see you go. I didn't _want_ you to leave, all right? You're a good shot and great to talk to, and I'm glad you're staying with me."

Arthur nodded, looked at the road for a moment, and turned back to her. "I'm sorry, what?"

Belle thumped the back of her hand against his forehead. "Listen to me when I'm talking to you, ditz."

"I was listening!" Kneading his forehead with his fingertips, he gazed off to the side. "I just... Oh, look, a zombie!"

Belle burst out laughing; an infected was indeed approaching them now.

"You got lucky with that one," she said, aiming. The monster went down with a bullet in its chest.

Letting the spent cartridge thump unceremoniously on the ground, Belle resumed the journey. Some moments later, she ended up glancing at Arthur to find an unusual expression on his face.

"Whatcha smiling about?"

"Wh-what?" Arthur's expression faltered for a second as he looked at her wide-eyed. "Um, nothing."

He turned his eyes back to the road before his smile gradually faded back in. Too weird to let her know he appreciated the apology, she guessed. Wacko.

"So, Kiku," she started, looking back at the Asian, "glad to have joined us so far?"

"Certainly," he panted. "It hasn't been long enough for much conversation, but there will be plenty of time yet to catch up."

Arthur shot a glance back at him, expression now tamed to a smirk. "You do seem to be lagging a bit behind, eh, mate?"

Immediately Belle collapsed into giggles, grabbing Arthur's sleeve to keep from actually falling down.

He nearly toppled over himself. "What?"

"Quit—" Belle could barely calm down enough to form words—"using words like that!"

Arthur gave her a look that was both amused and bemused, and she made herself let go, although she wasn't quite finished laughing.

"Well, it's all I've got in the way of charming you," Arthur said, face regaining its normal color. "So belt up and let's keep walking."

Belle laughed a bit less uproariously. "I don't even understand that one."

"Eh, same here. I think it sounds stupid, so I never actually say it." He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. "But I'll do it for you."

Belle grinned. "Thanks."

Kiku scurried a bit to catch up, eliciting a somewhat derisive snort from Arthur. The three of them had walked in line for but a few paces before Kiku paused. Assuming he was just shifting some baggage around, Belle slowed her pace and kept walking, but Kiku didn't follow.

"What, are there some infecteds?" Belle put the butt of her rifle up against her shoulder, but she didn't see anything to fire on.

"No," Kiku started, brows lowered. "I thought I heard something, but… perhaps I was mistaken."

"Huh." Arthur surveyed the area, but all he saw were sinking houses and budding trees.

"All right, then," Belle said, lowering her gun for the moment. "I guess we should—"

She cut off with a yelp when Kiku dove for Arthur, wrenching the archer's shoulder back far enough that both men stumbled backwards. The action didn't keep a sudden gash from splitting the skin above Arthur's collarbone.

Arthur, eyebrows jumping high, pulled some now-torn strands of T-shirt away from the slash. "Holy—" He glanced at Belle and clamped his mouth shut, although the alarm in his eyes finished the statement well enough.

"What just happened?" Belle squinted at the blood dripping onto the collar of Arthur's clean shirt.

Kiku unzipped one of his bags with one hand, the other on his sword hilt. "Someone must have—"

"Is that my arrow?" Arthur stared at a still-vibrating shaft stuck in a nearby door before he looked down at his quiver and started counting.

Belle popped him in the chin to make him look up. "There are more pressing issues right now."

"Er, yes." He turned his head some other way of his own accord just in time to catch a blur of motion. By the time the blur resolved itself into an enraged, pale face and a titanium baseball bat, it was a bit too late to move out of the way. With a scream from its wielder and a whistle through the air, the bat crashed down on Arthur, who just managed to jerk his head to the other side but still took a crushing blow to the shoulder. As his knees buckled under the pressure, the bat was drawn up for another attempt, but Belle's heeled boot cracked into the wielder's chest, forcing him back.

"Screw off!" Gilbert yelled, swinging the bat in Belle's direction without as much force. "This is between me and the one who killed my little brother!"

Snarling, Belle had to step back to avoid injury to her or her rifle, but Kiku lunged forward, hands empty. With two sharp strikes so fast Belle wasn't sure where they landed, he drove Gilbert back. By the time the albino's shoulders hit the ground, his head just missing a tree trunk, Belle was able to train her gun on Gilbert's face, and Kiku silently stepped back to help Arthur.

Struggling to breathe, Gilbert bent himself up a bit but stopped before the barrel could touch his forehead. Spittle seethed between his teeth as he tried to catch his breath.

"Back off. This doesn't concern you," he wheezed, shifting his feet. Belle stomped on them before he could try to kick the gun away.

"Really?" Belle responded, voice low. "As I recall, the only reason he killed Ludwig is because you two were trying to force me where I didn't want to go."

"But we weren't going to _kill _you!" Gilbert choked but swallowed, sucking in deep breaths.

Belle scowled. "Oh, so if we just paid him back with exact change, you wouldn't be angry?"

Gilbert just growled. "I don't care why your boyfriend did it. He still murdered my little brother! Maybe you can't understand, but—" Suddenly he grinned, and Belle cursed herself for the flash that must have gone across her eyes.

"Or maybe you can. Have a little brother, do you? Or had?" Gilbert laughed. "So you know exactly what it's like, huh? You work so hard looking after him, screw with the kid but don't let anybody else do the same, help him figure out how he's supposed to deal with everything you've already been through, watch him grow up and hope he's turning out a little better than you are, and then _bam_! Suddenly the little boy closest to your heart is face-down in a pool of his own blood, and there's absolutely nothing you can do for him—"

He had to cut off when Belle drove her boot into his jaw so hard she could hear it crack. Unable to keep himself from shouting in pain, Gilbert weakly spat out some blood.

"—except," he croaked, "try to find some sort of justice for him, whether he can see you or not, just out of respect for his memory—"

"Shut up!" Belle smashed her boot down on his chin again, panting. "I get it, okay? But abandoning the group of people your brother looked after so you could murder someone for rescuing me the only way he could is not acceptable! And it's doing nothing for your—your little brother!" She let out a long exhale, but it didn't take a bit of venom out of her voice. "Now tell me why I should not put this bullet through your brain right now. You have five seconds."

Gilbert looked up at her blankly.

"Four," she growled.

Struggling to push some dislodged teeth out of his tongue's way, Gilbert spat and in a garbled voice said, "I'm still a human being."

"Really, now? Three."

Gilbert's eyes flickered wide for a moment, but he managed to calm down a bit. "You wouldn't shoot me—"

"Two."

"—You didn't shoot me before, and..." Quickly losing his composure, he choked, maybe on a tooth, and looked up at Belle.

"And you used your second chance poorly." She didn't bother stating the end of her countdown before pulling the trigger.


	25. Killed

The gunshot echoed long after Belle wiped the last of Gilbert's blood off her rifle.

"Come on, let's go," she said, briskly walking away from the corpse without checking to see if anyone was following. After a moment two pairs of footsteps hurried after her.

"Belle?" Arthur started tentatively.

"I'm fine."

"Not that I question your judgment, but, um, shouldn't we be going the other way?"

At that, she finally came to a halt. Her hand automatically went to her pocket for the compass, but she stopped herself when she caught sight of the old wheelie bin up ahead. Her spent cartridge from earlier was undoubtedly in its bowels.

"Y-yeah, sorry." Exhaling, she turned around, sidestepped the boys, and resumed her quick pace.

"Belle—" Arthur, grateful for his new shoes, caught up with her and dared to put a hand on her shoulder. She jerked, and he pulled away stammering.

"Don't worry, just a reflex. You're fine." She paused, though her legs continued forward full-throttle. "Are you fine?" A sideways look at him confirmed the cut had stopped bleeding, although his grey shirt was now significantly darker below his collarbone.

"Um, yes. I don't believe he broke anything," Arthur said quickly, rolling his right shoulder back with a wince. "But how are you?"

"Fine." Belle shrugged, watching the road ahead. "He didn't even hit me."

"I don't mean physically."

When Belle's gaze hit his, Arthur looked down at the raccoon carcass hanging from his hand.

"If you, um, don't want to talk about it, you don't, uh, _have_ to..." He reached to scratch his head but cringed enough to cut the effort short.

Belle sighed, watching her feet displace bits of broken asphalt. "Maybe later. It's more important to keep moving."

Arthur stayed beside her for a moment before his line of sight fell to the makeshift bag of meat. Lifting it in front of Belle, he offered, "We'll have to stop for lunch eventually, and, um, now's as good a time as any. If you're hungry. Kiku, how about you? Hungry?"

Kiku looked at Arthur, then Belle. "I can eat whenever it would be convenient."

"That means he's hungry," Arthur said, looking back at Belle with a nervous grin.

Belle swallowed, looking ahead just in time to sidestep a thoroughly-dented pink car. With one hand, she pushed herself off the side of the the trunk and kept walking. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Once we get to the lake, okay?"

Nodding eagerly, Arthur lowered his catch and stayed in line with her as they walked. Kiku kept up the same pace, although he seemed content to stay a few feet behind them.

They came up to the golf course sooner than Belle expected, and in another minute they were slowing down to avoid walking straight into the water. The three came to a stop at the edge of the asphalt and hesitated, both men throwing glances at Belle to see what she wanted to do next.

After blankly watching the water, Belle turned and took a step to the side. "I'll gather some firewood," she said, voice drained. "Stay here and... pull out the bones, or whatever we're doing."

She walked stiffly towards the trees, a speechless Arthur staring after her. Kiku gently took the raccoon without meeting resistance and unwrapped the meat. After another moment of watching Belle pick up branches, Arthur sat down by Kiku to help with the meal.

"Have you already gutted this?" Kiku started, pulling at the meat to check for himself.

"Yes. We just need to skewer it or pull it apart or something." Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Arthur reached for the raccoon with the wrong arm and immediately put it down with a sharp swear.

Kiku's eyes flashed up to meet his. "I don't have that many painkillers, but—"

"No, no," Arthur said quickly, gingerly rubbing where his neck met his shoulder. "Save them for something more serious. Or at least until tomorrow. If I'm not back to shooting by then, it could be more of an issue." He turned his head with a wince to check on Belle. "Although I doubt she's in much of a shooting mood right now."

Kiku pulled a stray piece of fur off the meat. "I can take the lead if you'd rather me fend off the infecteds for a while."

"That sounds like a good idea."

The clatter of wood accompanied Belle's pile of firewood falling to the ground beside the men. Arthur quickly scooted over to arrange it as she unloaded her baggage. Kiku skewered the raccoon meat without meeting her eye.

"If you'd be more comfortable talking to Arthur alone," he started, "I can go elsewhere for a moment. Seeing as I've only just met you, I wouldn't expect to be included in such a personal conversation."

Belle swept some stray chips of wood off her arms. "No, it's fine. To be honest, I tend to forget you're there, anyway." Her short laugh was strained.

Kiku nodded. "All right."

An earthy-smelling smoke signaled Arthur's success with the fire, and Kiku scooted over to put the raccoon in place. Dragging her bags behind her, Belle took her place around the campfire. The faint crackling went on uninterrupted for a span.

"So," Arthur started eventually, crossing his legs. He opened his mouth to say something else but thought better of it and turned towards Belle.

"So." Belle leaned forward a bit, her chest touching her bent knees. The growing warmth of the fire was a nice feeling, despite the lack of any chill today. "I shot Gilbert."

Arthur watched the flames writhe. "He deserved it."

Belle let out a short sigh, wrapping her arms around her legs. "Maybe. But I wasn't exactly in a lucid state of mind when I passed judgment, and even now I..." Shaking her head, she sucked in a shuddering breath, and Arthur suddenly thought he might be about to see her cry for the first time. He pulled himself a bit closer to the fire.

"That was entirely his fault," Arthur said. "And his attempt to tear your mind apart only shows more of his depravity. I promise you were justified in shooting him." His arms trembled enough he chose to fold them.

The roasted scent of meat was starting to diffuse now, but Belle was looking too far back to delight in the meal ahead. "Yeah," she managed, reaching for the skewer to turn the meat a bit.

After a while of nothing but the fire spitting and a few birds chirping, Kiku exhaled softly. "But what he said about your brother hurts just as much?"

Belle pulled her arm back and rested it over her other one. "Yeah... I just like to think of Claus as safe, you know? Even though I might not actually find him. Even though all of the odds are against it. Even though Ludwig was worlds stronger, and _he_ got killed, and there must be so many others, and i-it just doesn't seem like there's really a chance, between the infecteds a-and the psychos and even just someone p-passing through, a-and that's not even worrying a-about normal accidents, or what c-could happen to his m-mind, o-o-or..." She finally stopped, crying too hard to keep talking.

Unable to swallow the surge of panic, Arthur couldn't for the life of him determine what he was supposed to do about this. Half of his brain was still in shock at her actually sitting there sobbing, and the remainder was not adept enough to do much of anything by itself. After another moment of vacillating, he shuffled over to her, touching his left shoulder and foot to her right. The contact made it so easy to feel her trembling he almost backed away right then. Instead he glued himself to the spot, although he did abandon all thought of putting an arm around her shoulders.

"He's fine," he started, unable to keep his voice from shaking.

Belle laughed, in a horrible, gasping way that allowed her to keep crying. "Y-you don't believe that at all, do you?"

"I d—I—I don't know!" He looked off to the side, gritting his teeth at the twinge in his neck. "I don't know him, I don't know who was with him, I don't know how things have been in Hunt, I don't know how they're going to be, and I don't know what we'll see when we get there. All I—all I know is that you two share blood, and you're tough as all get-out, so he must have _some_ chance."

Gasping for breath a few more times, Belle pressed her forehead to her knees. "Yeah? Because I'm sure s-scared out of my m-mind right now."

"But not for yourself." He shifted, closing his eyes for a moment. "I... I'd care to bet he's scared for you, too. And he has nothing to worry about, now, does he?"

Belle sniffed loudly, giving no other response. Arthur kept his mouth shut just as tightly, while Kiku rotated the meat.

By the time Kiku quietly announced that the meal was ready, Belle had calmed down considerably, although her breaths shook and clean stripes gleamed down her cheeks. She watched Kiku move the meat off the fire without making eye contact and accepted her share with a nearly silent thanks. Arthur muttered a thank-you as well, carefully reaching for his portion with his right arm so he wouldn't have to break contact with Belle. No one ate until Belle took her first bite.

"Do you often eat raccoon?" Kiku eventually started.

Arthur looked up at him. "Yes, I suppose. It's not my favorite type of meat by any means, but it's available."

He took another bite of his food before realizing Kiku was still looking at him, nodding his head towards Belle.

"Um, and you?" Arthur started. "Belle?"

She exhaled. "Not particularly. I'm sure I've had some before this, though." She chewed a bit more and swallowed. "Probably on Mystery Meat Day at the Nourriture qui Sauve."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "At the what?"

Belle turned the critter leg in her hand to get to the last of the meat. "The restaurant I work for."

"Oh, that. Okay." Arthur took his time chewing his next mouthful, but Belle exhaled, starting to slump over her meal a bit more. Jittering, Arthur swallowed before he should have and hacked.

"But, um—" he swallowed again—"if they already serve zombies, is it, er, really a marketing risk to tell the customers exactly what else they're eating?"

"Ha." Belle picked a bone clean and hurled it into the trees behind her. "Maybe it's just a guessing game to liven things up. We do get a cow's worth of beef every once in a while, but most of the menu isn't meat known for its savor." She exhaled. "Maybe we'd just rather pretend we're eating intolerable school cafeteria food. So life seems a little more normal."

"Makes sense." Arthur polished a bone but couldn't presently move either arm enough to throw it. He just dropped it by his side for the moment. Only then did he realize Kiku had stopped chewing.

"A restaurant that serves…" the swordsman started, not lifting the raccoon in his hands for another bite.

Belle smiled, more ironically than amusedly. "Yes, infected meat. I guess it sounds inherently disgusting to anyone who hasn't worked and eaten there for a year." She sat up a little, although her elbows still hooked around her knees. "It's the cure, though. Or maybe more of a vaccine. We don't know any details since most people aren't ready to risk being bitten without it, but a good strip of jerky keeps away infection for a day or so."

Kiku blinked evenly, carefully taking another bite of meat. After swallowing, he said, "Really?"

Belle nodded, rolling a clean raccoon rib between her thumb and forefinger. "We still don't like to be reckless about running around with infecteds, but it worked for the woman who figured it out, and it's worked for others, too."

"How interesting," Kiku murmured, taking a sip of water.

Belle's worn smile showed again. "You're allowed to say weird."

"No, no, I really mean interesting." Chewing quickly, he swallowed the last of his meat. "I haven't heard of or considered something like that before."

"Please tell me you're not going to start eating zombie, too," Arthur grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Kiku scooped the remains of his meal into a neat pile. "I may, if the situation comes to warrant it. Am I to assume you haven't tried any?"

Arthur gagged. "Goodness, no. I'd like to keep my sense of taste intact."

Kiku only looked perplexed for a moment before wiping his face clean of expression. "All right."

Belle picked her last bone clean. "You do realize you're already eating raccoon."

"With altogether negligible amounts of decay," Arthur added, shaking a roasted leg at her. "Bit of a difference."

A smile, still tired but not as strained, graced her face for a moment. "I'll give you that." Slowly, she got back to her feet, flung the rest of her bones into the brush, and picked up the first bag to go over her shoulder. Kiku followed suit, while Arthur hurried to finish off his ration. Dropping the leg bones before all of the meat was completely inside his mouth, he picked up his bucket and straightened out his arrows.

"Ready to go, I assume?" he started, helping Belle with her second bag.

"Yeah." She adjusted the shoulder strap and stomped out the fire. Wiping her face—or at least smudging it so the tear tracks weren't visible—she looked to Arthur and smiled. "Thanks."


	26. Bruised

Author's Note: Just wanted to say thanks for the reviews! We've made it to fifty, woo-hoo!

* * *

The intersection of US-290 and Fitzhugh Road appeared before Belle decided to stop for the night. Although the building in front of them was almost entirely walled with glass, none of it was broken, and more than enough chairs and tables dotted the floor inside to provide a stumbling-block for any incoming infecteds. It also wasn't out of the question that the former Mexican restaurant had some canned goods in the back. Considering Arthur's shoulder was still too sore to accurately shoot down food, that alone was worth the risk. Belle didn't want to dig into her or Kiku's food stores if she didn't have to. Besides, if the building proved too insecure, they could always grab what they wanted from it and walk to the block of storage units across the road.

Trying to avoid the roaches—hopefully they had taken up residence after the restaurant had closed down—Belle pushed her way back into the kitchen. All of the counters and sinks were cleaned out. One cabinet yielded an open, fungus-eaten can of tomato something-or-other. Belle shut the doors quietly, as if allowing the layer of fuzz to sleep without disturbance would make it go away.

Sighing as the other side of the cabinet yielded nothing, she tried the shin-level cupboard farthest from the industrial sink. As her hand dragged across the top shelf, it found a can lurking in the back. Prodding it towards her carefully lest it have its own infection, she found the label faded but everything intact.

"What is it?" Arthur started, leaning over to look but too far away to read.

The sliding clunking of Kiku's shake flashlight sounded behind her, but Belle stood up with the can in hand. "Save it. There's still daylight."

Slipping into the main part of the restaurant, Belle rotated the large can in her hand until the largest letters saw the light of day. "_Chiles Jalapeños Enter-r-r-ros_," she announced before setting the can down on a table.

"Which means?" Arthur started, pulling up a chair after ensuring Belle had no interest in sitting down at the moment.

"Some kind of jalapeños," she said, "but one year of Spanish in school won't tell me any more than that. We'd need Antonio to translate the rest. Or it might be a bit easier to just open it and find out." Shuffling through her bag, she put a few drops of iodine on the top of the can and rubbed it down.

Arthur watched her for a second before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Who's Antonio?"

"Hm?" Belle glanced at Arthur before pulling out the knife she now kept on her belt. "Guy I work with."

"Oh, him." Arthur frowned, scratching his cheek.

"Yes, him." Belle hooked her foot around a nearby chair leg and pulled it up to sit. "Is that a problem?"

"What? No." Arthur folded his arms, watching the can as he jiggled one his right leg.

She started to pry at the tin lid before glancing up at Arthur again. "You know, you could at least wait until you actually have a girlfriend before you start going Othello on me."

Arthur crossed his arms tighter. "I'm acting nothing like Othello."

"You _have_ read that play, right?" Belle responded. "I figured you did, being such a Shakespeare fan and all, but if you say you don't think like him at _all_..."

"I've read it _and_ seen it," Arthur scoffed, watching the tip of her knife steadily progress around the can's rim. "The only thing I have in common with the titular character is a lack of confidence in my words."

"You did well enough with them at lunch," Belle pointed out, watching the lid tilt up at the side she'd already cut through.

"Only if you think so." Arthur tried not to wrinkle his nose at the vinegar smell spreading through the room.

"I do." Slowing down, Belle carefully held the lid and cut at the last part holding it to the rest of the can. "Will you hold this still for a second?"

Arthur nodded, scooting up to wrap his hands around the can. Belle finished opening the container and thanked him for his assistance.

"This is going to be an interesting meal," she started, pulling out one whole pepper by its stem and peering into the can. "You want any, Kiku?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Thought so." Belle held the jalapeño up to examine it, but the east-facing windows were rapidly admitting less light. "I don't see anything weird on them. Would it be safer to roast them first, or would that make a difference?"

"I have no idea whatsoever." Arthur grabbed the can and tilted it to see inside. "We should at least rinse them off, but beyond that I'm clueless."

"Let's scrub them and roast them, then," Belle decided, dropping her jalapeño back in the can. "There are some trees across the street, so I'll grab some branches from there." She turned to Arthur. "Do you have enough clean water to scour them all?"

Arthur shrugged off his drawstring backpack and got the bottle out. "This is almost full."

"All right, we'll do that and both drink my water. We won't want much if these are still spicy. Shame there isn't any milk."

"Yeah." Arthur dragged the can towards him, and Belle stood, turning towards the door. As she charged out of the building, he couldn't help but hope capsaicin would be the only thing to make her eyes water anytime soon.

* * *

Belle was ready to head out by the crack of dawn. With a handful of puffed cereal in her system, she pulled a few chairs away from the front door as Arthur hurried forward to open it. That gave some of the infecteds an easier path inside, but Belle saw no reason to shoot through the glass. Firing on the four right in front of her, she took a couple of steps and checked over her shoulder.

"Everyone ready?" she started.

"Yes, ma'am." Arthur followed her out and gave the door a push back for Kiku. With a nod, the swordsman followed.

"Great." Belle took one look around the intersection before starting down the road. At the soonest opportunity, she walked off the asphalt onto softer ground. She was tempted to drift much farther from the obvious route, but no one had crossed her path yesterday, and it was easier to check street signs than navigate through trees. Nothing was wrong with avoiding the houses situated farther from the main roads, either.

Although he continued to walk closer to Belle than Kiku, Arthur looked back at his roommate. "You didn't bring any textbooks along, did you?"

Kiku shook his head. "I was tempted, but I'm carrying enough weight already."

"Yeah?" Arthur carefully stretched his right arm. "What subjects have you been studying?"

"Mostly zoology lately. I've already run out of engineering books." With a small sigh, he kept walking.

Laughing quietly, Belle turned to comment, her baggage swinging around her from the momentum. She put her arms down to stop them before she abruptly fell over. Arthur yelped and scampered to her side.

"I'm okay," she started, pushing her duffel off her stomach before letting Arthur pull her up.

"Are you sure?" Arthur looked her over, his eyes stopping at the rip over her knee.

"Yeah." Getting her bags in order, Belle shook out her leg and turned around. "Yeah. Sorry. Still a little tired." She smiled at him and resumed walking, her eyes on the ground.

"Oh." Arthur took another second to catch up. "Did you not sleep well?"

Belle scratched the back of her neck. "To be honest, yeah. Too much to think about, you know?" Exhaling, she made it a few more steps forward before a monster stumbled out of the brush.

"Here, I've got it," Arthur said, pulling out his bow and an arrow.

Belle stepped out of the way, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm certainly bruised, but no longer so sore." After a moment of aiming, he let the arrow fly, hitting the infected in the chest.

"Bruised but not sore," Belle murmured, keeping up as Arthur went to retrieve his arrow. "Could say that for both of us." She crossed her arms. "Dumb Gilbert."

Arthur laughed lightly as he slowed down near the infected body. "Really, though—" waiting for the monster to stop twitching, he turned back towards Belle—"are you all right? We could always stop and close our eyes for a little while if it would help." His gaze dropped to her knee again.

Trying not to laugh, Belle investigated the choppy line of red that could have made it there at any time without her noticing. "Goodness, Arthur, this doesn't even count as a scratch. I'm not going to let myself fall into any worse, either." She grinned. "You treat me like such a fragile flower sometimes."

"I—no! You're not... There's nothing frail about you; that's half the reason I—" Cutting himself off, he knelt to rip his arrow out of the infected.

Belle stopped herself from asking what he was about to say. She had a hunch about the end of that sentence, anyway.

"Let's keep going, then." She did a quick sweep of the area while he was occupied, but Kiku was the only other biped in sight. "I promise I won't fall over again, okay?"

Arthur blinked, looking a bit perplexed. "Okay." Wiping infected blood off on the dried mud, he stood and stowed the arrow. "I'll, um, hold you to that, though."

"Fine." Belle checked her direction and started walking. "But, in exchange, you can't let anyone else shoot you with your own arrows."

Arthur fingered the slash over his collarbone, throwing a glance back to make sure Kiku was still following. "I assure you I'll do my best. Although I'm still trying to figure out how he managed to swipe one without drawing my attention."

Belle eyed the fletchings sticking out from the quiver just below his elbow. "Yeah. I'm surprised he didn't try to take your bow, too."

"Maybe he's used to a different kind." Arthur shrugged. "I was tempted to see what he had used, but..."

Belle chuckled, looking at her toes. "But I was already freaking out and running away?"

"I-I wouldn't phrase it like that..." Arthur rested his bow against his shoulder. "Um, besides, I wouldn't want to cheat on Portia, anyway." He stroked the curved wood with his free hand.

Belle snorted. "You named your bow Portia?"

Huffing, Arthur crossed his arms. "What, you haven't named your gun?"

Belle tapped her fingers on her rifle. "Hergé," she admitted.

"See, don't act like it's eccentric. I'm peculiar enough without you trying to make me sound worse. Kiku, what's your sword's name?"

Kiku hesitated. "Kotetsu."

"See? Perfectly normal. Goodness."

"Okay, okay," Belle laughed. "You win."

"And it's about time, too." Arthur gave a stiff nod of assent before having to dissolve his stance to shoot another infected.

After a moment more of walking, Kiku started, "Belle, if it would help, I do have some sleeping pills in here."

Arthur looked back at his roommate petulantly. "Oh, I tell you I've been an insomniac for years, but you don't mention the pills until she says something?"

Kiku flinched back. "No, but I thought your condition would give you too high a risk of addiction, so I wouldn't consider that of the least help to you..." Mouth staying open, he wrung his hands.

Arthur stomped down on the infected to get better leverage on his arrow. "Well, I know that, but you're at least supposed to offer them to me. How else can I generously decline so that I ensure there will be enough for Belle should she need them?"

Kiku watched Arthur clean off the arrow for a moment. "Say, Arthur, I have a few sleep aid pills. It's not much, but since you've been having issues with insomnia, I thought you might like to try some."

Arthur put his arrow back in the quiver with a flourish. "I thank you for the offer, my friend, but I must decline. Belle, would you be interested in any sleeping pills?"

Belle was giggling to hard to reply. "You're a dork," she finally managed.

Arthur sighed. "I was aiming for 'gentleman,' but I suppose everyone has different interpretations."

Allowing herself to stand still until the laughing fit passed, Belle covered her mouth, looking at the two in front of her and smiling more just because she wasn't walking this alone.


	27. Ask

More neighborhoods branched off the road than Arthur expected. Weren't they taking the beaten path to avoid houses? He didn't particularly care, but Belle was already in a less-than-serene state of mind. Perhaps she was just too tired to worry about it.

"I'm going to have some jerky for lunch." Belle didn't slow down as she opened her bag. "Do you want some, or would you rather look through some houses, or...?"

Arthur grimaced. "I'll check the houses, thanks."

"That's what I thought." Exhaling, Belle twirled a lock on hair around a finger. "We'll all three look. Wouldn't want you to stumble into a room of infecteds by yourself."

"If you feel like it." Arthur eyed her, frowning, but once she smiled, his opposition dissolved. "Kiku, are you interested?"

"I see no reason I wouldn't be." He tried to discreetly zip up his food bag, but Arthur snorted.

"These houses seem intact enough," Belle announced, slowing and turning at the next road. The other two followed suit with no objections.

The first few buildings yielded nothing interesting, but Arthur wasn't surprised. The places easiest to access ought to have been cleaned out by now.

In the fifth house, the kitchen hid in a far corner of the home. After a bit of searching, Belle located the right door and hollered to the others, but Arthur lingered in the den for a moment. An adult-sized skeleton that no longer stank reclined on the sofa, looking undisturbed aside from the scattered bones in its right hand and the bullet hole in its right temple. On the table in front of it lay a scrapbook, open to a photo-smothered page entitled "Our First Date" in letters made a bit less cutesy by the blood spatter over them.

"Find something interesting?"

Jumping, Arthur spun around to find Belle exiting the kitchen with a water pitcher in hand.

"Oh, um, uh, no, what?" He shook his head. "Sorry. Um, no, nothing to see in here."

Belle opened her mouth but stopped when her line of sight fell on the skull. Quickly averting her gaze to her loot, she shook the pitcher a bit. "It says it has a fancy water filter, so I thought it might be worth a shot."

"Yes, yes, good idea." Stumbling away from the couch, Arthur opened the door for her before pausing. "Er, you were done in there, I assume?"

"Yeah." Stepping over the threshold, she thanked him and then yanked him outside. He blinked at her for a second before realizing there were zombies to shoot. Feeling his face redden a bit, he quickly sent a few arrows flying before the intruders got too close. Kiku followed them outside, informing them he had found nothing suitable to bring, as Arthur retrieved the arrows. While Belle tried to find space in her bags for the pitcher, the trio moved on to the next house.

Despite his gnawing hunger, Arthur found himself unable to focus on the various drawers he pulled open. "Our First Date." It didn't seem to have ended well in the most recent case he'd stumbled upon, but he had been planning to ask Belle out eventually, hadn't he? His odds still weren't particularly good, but he at least seemed to have been upgraded from a chew toy to a companion. Would it be terribly rushing things if he asked now? If she was signalling she wanted to be friends, would asking her for a date seem uncaring, or presumptuous? Moreover, no matter how she took it, it wasn't as if she would actually go out with him, so why would he bother? He ought to have been thankful for this much companionship, not just desirous of pulling her even closer.

But, hypothetically, if he _were_ to ask her to a picnic, what should he have been looking for? Some extra food might turn out to be nice, but it would be incredibly suspicious to store some away at this moment. He would probably end up shooting something down for the date, anyway; he'd just have to cook it specially. Perhaps there were still seasonings and such to be found; surely few raiders would have gone to the spice racks rather than the pantries.

Keeping an eye out for that, he continued to shuffle through this kitchen's contents as Belle suggested they head to the next house.

So would the meal just be meat? There could have been some canned vegetables around here somewhere, but those were usually the first things to be stolen. Fresh vegetables were possible if someone had had a background garden, but he had yet to see any such thing here.

The picnic would undoubtedly need desserts as well. He immediately thought chocolate, but the odds finding some in condition to eat were only a bit less dismal than the odds of the date happening in the first place. Fruit, then? There were probably apple trees around here somewhere, but when were apples in season, anyway? It was still spring, so everything just seemed to be flowering.

Oh, yes, flowers. There would have to be some of those, too.

This house actually had a vase of artificial lilies on the counter, so he dumped the impostors and quickly slipped the container into his backpack.

That wouldn't be the only decoration necessary, though. At this rate, they were only getting farther from the lake and its picnic tables, so a quality tablecloth would be important as well. He already had a few candles in his bag, although some decorative holders would be a nice touch.

Or would candles be too much? Then again, this was all just a wistful fantasy, so why not go all out?

Unsure whether he was more depressed or anticipatory, he continued scouring the kitchens for equipment, nearly skipping over a jar of olives in his haste.

"What's that?"

Arthur spun around to face Belle, but he could feel his face heating up without provocation. "Um, olives." He fumbled with the jar until he finally managed to hold it steadily at eye level. "Do you, uh, think these are still good?"

Belle squinted through the glass. "They look fine to me."

"O-okay." Doing his best to not drop the jar no matter how much his hands were suddenly sweating, he shrugged off his backpack and quickly hid it inside. Then he realized he was supposed to eat those about now.

"Wait a minute," Belle said, seizing one of the drawstrings so he couldn't put the backpack on. "I'll do the shooting for a while—go ahead and eat."

"Ah, um, right. Right!" He pulled the olive jar back out, quickly closed up the pack, and slipped it back on. He shot a glance back at Belle to make sure she hadn't caught sight of the vase, but she was already walking to the door.

* * *

By the time evening rolled around, Belle was wondering what on earth was going on with Arthur. He always managed to calm down for a few seconds to shoot down infecteds, but she was starting to think he was about to spontaneously combust. Trembling all the while, he'd drop the jar of olives as he was eating, fumble and catch it, hurry ahead, fall back, whisper with Kiku, surge forward again, fiddle with his backpack once the olives were gone, wring his hands, wander off the side of the road, throw random glances at Belle and panic further if she returned them, and tap his feet whenever they had to stop. While he didn't necessarily keep still on a good day, it was enough to worry Belle a bit.

"Doing okay over there?" she finally started.

Arthur jumped, nearly stumbling over his own feet when he landed. "Yes! Yes, of course—yes." He hurried to take the lead again.

"Okay. Do we need to stop or anything?"

"No! No." Arthur tugged at the loose strings on his collar. "Um..." Trying not to trip, he turned around and started, "B-Belle, would you—" Cutting off abruptly, he spun back around and kept walking in large strides.

"Would I what?"

"Nothing! A-absolutely nothing! Never mind, go about your business."

Belle looked over her shoulder at Kiku. "Do you know what's up with him?"

Kiku hesitated, and that gave Arthur time to whip around again.

"Don't say anything!" the archer gasped, and Kiku nodded, giving Belle an apologetic look.

Chewing on her lip, Belle followed the quaking Arthur a little longer before a smile dawned on her face.

"You're not trying to ask me out, are you?"

Arthur tripped on his heels, his hands and rear hitting the ground before he quickly stumbled back onto his feet. "N-no! O-of course not! Why would I—why would I—why would I do that?" He emitted a short, hysterical laugh and nearly tripped over his own feet again.

Trying not to smile too much despite the high pitch of Arthur's voice and the impossibly deep red of his face, Belle shrugged. "All right, then. I guess you'll never know what I would have said, but if you don't want to ask, I'll hardly force you to."

Gasping like he was punched, Arthur staggered after her but couldn't seem to catch his breath enough to say anything.

"B-Belle," he finally managed, but his mouth clamped shut when she stopped and turned to look at him. Struggling for a second, he quietly cursed himself and sucked in as deep a breath as he could. "Belle, would—would you—" another deep breath—"would you like to go on a date with me?" Eyes squeezed shut, he stood so stiffly he would probably faint if the ensuing silence didn't kill him first.

Belle finally let herself giggle a bit. "Sure, why not?"

"I'm sorry, it was a terrible idea, and I completely understand why you wouldn't wan-wa-wai-wait." Arthur blinked his eyes open, staring at her mouth. "What?"

With a snort, Belle started walking again. "If you want to keep a girl around, you should listen to her better."

Arthur hurried to catch up and then kept pace with her. "I'm-I'm sorry—did you say yes?"

"Yes."

"As in—as in, 'yes, I'll go on a date with you' yes?"

"Yes." Belle laughed. "I'll give you a chance. Tonight?"

Arthur blanched, taking a step backwards. "No! God, no! I'm not ready yet!"

Belle put a hand on his shoulder. "All right, all right! It can wait. Stop hyperventilating."

"I'm not—I'm not..."

Giggling, Belle let her hand fall to her side. "So, tomorrow? In two days?" She winked. "I'm pretty much free all week, so whenever is fine."

"Um... Um..." Arthur scratched at the scabbed gash on his chest. "Two days sounds fine?"

"All right, great." Belle grinned. "See you then."

Arthur nodded rapidly, staggering after her in a daze.


	28. Date

Two days later, the road was crossing a stretch of brushy wilderness. The sun was already fading from yellow to orange before Belle slowed to a stop.

Turning to Arthur, she smiled and said, "Ready for dinner?"

Arthur picked at the stained collar of his Abbey Road shirt. "I-I-I suppose. If you wouldn't mind, um, staring at the road ahead or something, I'll, uh, start getting things set up. O-okay?" While the blood wasn't yet rushing to his face, his breathing was as strained as his twitchy grin.

"Works for me." Setting down all her bags but the duffel of bullets, she walked forward a bit, rifle ready. A glance back at Kiku confirmed he had already unloaded but was conversing with Arthur. The latter was waving his arms energetically, while Kiku went through one of his bags and nodded.

Belle had to wonder what Arthur was planning if he needed Kiku's help. He obviously wanted to impress her, but, given the circumstances, she had no idea what exactly he could do, assisted or otherwise.

She could imagine Kiku helping with the cooking. There was plenty of deer over Arthur's shoulders, but he was... talented enough to ruin all of it if he tried anything complicated.

Turning back towards the north, she shot down a distant infected and waited.

* * *

Just before the sun hit the horizon, Arthur called for Belle. "I, um, think everything's, er, more or less ready."

Getting to her feet, Belle put away her rifle and turned around. She had to do a bit of walking to get to the setup, but Arthur couldn't exactly just move it closer to her. Two tall candlesticks, nicked but polished, stood straight at the sides, partially embedded in the mud. A few smaller candles dotted the square, beige tarp between the tall candlesticks. In lieu of a proper tablecloth, two lacy place mats lay half-hidden under mismatched but fine china dishes. Sauced, steaming lumps of meat with decorative green sprigs sat on each of the main plates, and smaller plates held slices of grapefruit arranged in starbursts. Silver forks and knives were placed carefully to the side, pinning down paper napkins. In the middle of the tarp stood a well-scrubbed vase with various tiny flowers spilling over the rim. Arthur stood tensely at the far end of the setup, his walking clothes shed for a dress shirt and waistcoat that were a bit faded but matched the accompanying grey slacks. His sneakers didn't quite fit with the rest of the outfit, but they reflected bits of flame as well as the melted candle wax.

"Um..." Having no chair to pull out for her, Arthur just spread her section of the tarp out smooth and invited her to sit. After seeing Kiku on the other side of the road watching for infecteds, Belle put her last duffel to the side and complied. Arthur hovered over his spot and then spent a minute straightening one of the candlesticks before he joined her. Repeatedly shifting his knees, he picked at his collar and glanced at Belle before looking down at the food.

"Well, um, everything's ready with, uh, Kiku's help, so dig in, and all that." He grabbed his fork and knife a bit too eagerly but positioned the handles precisely against his palms as Belle picked up her utensils.

"Fancy," she commented cheerfully, cutting off a piece.

"U-uh-huh." He quickly put a piece in his mouth.

Not sure what to expect, Belle tried her first bite. Orange, thyme, parsley, meat. Not very tough, either.

By the time she finished chewing, she had started to feel Arthur's gaze on her. When she looked up at him, he hurried to cut up more of his meal, though not without constantly stealing glances at her.

"It's really good," she said, dabbing some of the sauce off her lip. She'd had better meals, but, if she limited the category to deer, she wasn't sure she could still say that. The herbs were a bit faded from age, but they were still recognizable and complemented the meat well. She suspected the success was due to Kiku, but there was no reason to jump to conclusions.

"Um, thanks." Arthur forked another piece and looked at it. "We're, uh, lucky we found that orange tree earlier."

"Yeah, it's a nice touch." She chewed through another piece before glancing at the empty spot of tarp opposite the grapefruit plate. "Don't tell me Kiku's bringing in wine or something."

"What? No." Frowning, Arthur looked at the meal for a few moments before it finally clicked. He already knew there was no wine—but there were no other drinks, either. He had completely neglected to get any.

"Hang on," Belle started, setting the messy edges of her silverware on the rim of her plate. "I didn't think to bring my water bottle with me. Let me go—"

"No, no, no, no, no!" Arthur scrambled to get to his feet first. "I-I'll get it. Um..." Heart pounding, he walked onto the roadway. "Wh-which bag?"

"Not that one," Belle said as he tried to unzip the duffel of bullets. "On the far left. Um—my left, sorry." She tried to laugh a little, but Arthur's shaking was starting to make her unsettled.

Arthur fumbled with the bag handles as he tried to get them out of the way.

Belle sighed. "Goodness, Arthur, I can get it—"

"No! S-stay where you are!" Gulping down air, Arthur finally tugged at the zipper. "Um, please."

"All right." Belle shifted her legs, occupying herself by cutting up her meat.

After another minute of shuffling, Arthur finally retrieved the water bottle. For a moment he wondered why Kiku wasn't helping in this dire situation, but since the swordsman seemed to be busy pummeling two zombies, Arthur let the matter slide. Besides, he couldn't expect Kiku to do all of the work. This was his date, and he was the one screwing it up, too.

How could he forget to bring drinks? When was the last time he had any sort of meal without washing it down? Hadn't he planned on swiping some crystalline glasses for this? What was wrong with him? He should have thought of drinks when he set out to prepare a meal, just as he should have remembered how to shake hands when he first set out to introduce himself. He did such a splendid job with both of those.

Grabbing his own water bottle as an afterthought, he hurried back to the tarp and set the drinks down panting.

"Thanks," Belle said, picking up hers.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered, shoving another forkful into his mouth.

Still swallowing a draught, Belle waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. I have plenty of water, anyway."

Arthur made a mumbling noise and flipped a piece of meat over in the sauce. This date was supposed to be extravagant, not just a matter of having enough for a meal. It may have not been terribly fancy, but it was still supposed to be special.

Belle forked a piece and spun it on the plate. "So, what are we supposed to talk about on a date, anyway? I can't exactly ask you how your day or week has been going since I've been there the whole time."

As she chewed, Arthur fidgeted, tugging at his shirt collar. "I-I don't know. I've never, um..." He put another bite in his mouth.

"Thought about it much?" Belle suggested. "Yeah, me, neither. I think it's usually a get-to-know-you sort of thing, but we already know each other pretty well. Let's see—" she put her empty fork to her lip—"what do I not know about you?"

Arthur's jaws continued chewing even though he had already swallowed.

"What's your middle name?" Belle finally started, pointing at Arthur with her fork.

Arthur drew back. "U-um, Danger, of course. No, um..." He stalled a bit—forgetting his own name _again?_—before finally saying, "Er, Swinburne."

Belle laughed. "Seriously?" For a moment Arthur thought she was commenting on his hesitation, but she continued, "In case you didn't sound British enough before. So, Arthur Swinburne... Wait, what's your last name again?"

"Um, Kirkland."

"Huh." Belle nibbled on her fork before getting another bite.

After a moment, Arthur started, "And you?"

She lowered her fork. "Belle Emma Mertens," she answered, tracing the words in the air with one finger as she said them.

Not sure how else he was supposed to respond, Arthur nodded and continued eating.

Looking at the darkening sky, Belle took a drink. "Belle Kirkland. Hm, doesn't have that good a ring to it, but I've heard worse."

Arthur flushed, watching candlelight glint off his fork. Struggling to figure out whether she meant that literally or was making some comment about dating him in general, he sawed off another piece of meat and popped it in his mouth.

"So," Belle eventually started. "Nice conversation we have going here."

Arthur fidgeted. "A-as you said, there's, uh, really not much to talk about." Swallowing, he jabbed his fork down for his next piece of meat, but, judging by the screech of silver on china, there was nothing left to stab. Hands shaking, he switched his empty plate and the one with grapefruit, accidentally clanging them against each other.

"Sh—sorry." Setting the plate down, he sucked the sauce off his fork and nervously started on the grapefruit.

As the sour juice squirted between his teeth, he tried to figure out a conversation topic, but all he could think about was how terrible an idea this was. He forgot the drinks, he couldn't think of anything to say, he nearly broke the plates, which didn't match, anyway, and hardly anything here matched, and the only things of worth were Kiku's doing, anyway, and—and why would he expect anything better, anyway? He already shot her, dragged her off her path, and generally made himself a nuisance whenever possible, and a contemptible attempt at a date was hardly going to fix that.

"Where did you find the grapefruit, anyway?"

"What? Nowhere," Arthur stammered, gaze shooting up to meet Belle's. "Um—I don't remember? By a house. Er..."

Belle chuckled. "Calm down, it's not the million-dollar question."

"R-right. Um..." Arthur tugged at his collar. On the second pull, the top button went flying off with a pop. The off-white circle shone in the candlelight for a moment before it fell somewhere on the tarp with a faint tap. Too panicked to know what he was doing, Arthur found himself on his knees, frantically sweeping his hands over the crinkling surface, feeling for the button. Chomping on another piece of grapefruit, Belle chuckled weakly and pulled her feet out of the way. Arthur finally managed to slow his pursuit and sat up, face a shade of red worthy of a a fire extinguisher.

"I think Kiku might need some help," he choked out, not looking at Belle as he hopped to his feet and ran off.

"Arthur—" Belle started, but he was already gone. Sighing, she chewed up her last slice of grapefruit and got to her feet.

Kiku did actually seem to be having a bit of trouble with a trio of infecteds, but Arthur wasn't shooting any down. Instead of drawing any arrows, he was hiding behind a tree by the side of the road.

Firing on one of the infecteds point blank, Belle made sure Kiku could handle the rest before she hurried over to Arthur.

"Arthur?" She called his name again but had to shake his shoulder before he turned around. The dim light of the moon made the bark-shaped dents on his forehead look even stranger.

"What?" he halfheartedly snapped.

Belle dragged him by the elbow back towards the road. "Just seeing if you're okay."

"I could be much better, thanks," he muttered, stumbling over a clump of weeds.

Belle stuck out her other arm to keep him from falling. "What is it? Just stressed out?"

Arthur mumbled something and stomped back over to the tarp. "You can have the rest of my grapefruit." He stacked up the larger, empty plates and put them in one corner.

"That's okay," Belle started. "I had plenty; go ahead."

Arthur started to dig up the candlesticks. "I'm not hungry."

Belle folded her arms. "Really? We've been walking all day, and you didn't exactly have a huge lunch. There's no reason—"

Arthur turned on her. "I made this date a complete disaster! How's that for a reason?"

"Whoa, whoa—hold your horses." Belle leaned towards him. "Sure, it wasn't perfect, but it didn't end with—" she counted off on her fingers—"food poisoning, you trying to grope me, or somebody bleeding out on the ground. Not a total disaster by my standards."

Flushing, Arthur briefly wondered why he was putting things away when they were about to leave the area. Regardless, he started to gather the smaller candles by the big ones. "F-fine, it was a moderate disaster. That better?"

Belle sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "It wasn't all bad, okay? Your nerves kind of shot the atmosphere, and it wasn't a traditional date, but—"

"But what?" Arthur put her grapefruit plate on top of the larger stack with a sharp clack. "But it still worked out somehow? _How?_ There was no romantic conversation, none of the dinnerware or candles matched, we didn't eat anything we wouldn't usually, we had no drinks, we sat on a bloody tarp, I didn't get to do so much as pull out your chair for you, the napkins have fast food logos on them, the vase is full of random weeds and wildflowers, I can't even buy your meal for you, and—and do you want these stupid grapefruit pieces or not?" He thrust the other small plate in her direction, and she finally picked up the last two slices with her hands.

Belle frowned, but he looked too close to tears for her to snap back at him. "I don't doubt," she started before he could go off on some other bitter tangent, "you did the best you could under our circumstances, all right? That's good enough for me."

"But you deserve better than this!" He put the small plate down on the others, cringing when it split. "The date was supposed to be something special, but it's all just more of the same. Scraping up enough to survive."

"It _was_ special," Belle protested, swallowing one of the grapefruit slices. "The meat may have still been as gamey as everything else, but you made it up nicely—"

"Kiku did all of it!" Arthur gave up on his cleaning and just threw the tarp over the remaining evidence. "Go marry _him_."

Eyebrows lowering, Belle made a sound, but Arthur didn't look at her as he stomped off towards that tree he had hidden behind.

"I'm sorry," she started, stalking after him, "I thought you were trying to gain _my_ approval in all of this."

"Well—" Arthur sucked in a breath before crossing his arms. "Well, I respect that you had reasonably low standards of me, but that doesn't change anything." He glared at the moon. "It's late; let's go build some shelter."

"F-fine!" Belle spluttered. "Kiku, shake up your flashlight. Let's find a good tree."

At the frustration in her voice, Arthur flinched. A wave of panic rose at the back of his throat as he wondered what on earth he was doing. Sabotaging a relationship before he could accidentally ruin it? Just like he always used to do?

He was able to swallow down the jitters, but the seared-numb feeling wasn't much better.

So he was going back to the usual him now? All of those solid walls he'd built to keep others at bay had crumbled with disuse long before Belle entered his life. Yet suddenly they were pulling themselves together again—he could feel it. But never before had someone made it so far past those walls in the first place. It would be safer for the both of them if he just threw her out. And she'd be angry, but...

He didn't want her to be angry...

But it would have to happen eventually, right? She was smart enough to figure him out in time, and he would be a disappointment no matter what her expectations were. He just had to push her away before she could get any closer, because no matter how much this would hurt, delaying would only make it worse.

But he didn't want to push her away at all! What on earth was he doing? What on earth...

He started to call her name but found himself mute. Was he really going to hope that it would all work out? _Could_ he even?

Feeling strangled from the inside, Arthur just gathered up his bags and followed the others into the trees.


	29. Rest

Arthur was dreaming. He certainly hadn't anticipated getting any sleep tonight, but somehow it came.

He wasn't terribly sure where he was. His surroundings stretched away into such a dark void that the spot of earth beneath his knees may have been the only solid ground in the world. The stagnant air held a chill, but his hand was warm. Still quivering and dripping sticky blood all over his fingers, a ragged chunk of cardiac muscle gleamed in the faint white light. He couldn't actually feel the fiery needles of pain blooming from his chest, but he knew very well how much agony he was in. He was too paralyzed by it to throw the piece of his heart away from him.

No one else was there; no warmth rolling off a human body reached him. Yet a voice was at his ear—someone familiar, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out who.

_"You need that to survive, you know."_

Jolting into awareness, Arthur nearly rammed his head into a branch sitting up. Disoriented, he had to grip rough limbs like an alligator's jaws clamping down on prey to keep from falling headlong, but that didn't keep him from scrambling to Belle's spot. He was hardly aware of what he was doing, but the horror of the dream compelled him to do _something_.

He shook Belle's shoulder for a few seconds before she started to stir. Once her eyes cracked open, she started mumbling and reaching for her rifle, but Arthur stammered, "We're not under attack." He didn't remember to drop his voice until the end, but he wasn't particularly concerned about Kiku at the moment.

Belle let her arm go limp and yawned, not quite keeping her eyes open. "Okay. So wha—" a yawn—"at couldn't wait until morning?"

Arthur hesitated, starting to feel stupid now that the prickle in his chest was fading. "You—G-go back to sleep. Sorry."

Blindly swinging her arm out, Belle managed to grab his wrist. "Well, I'm awake now. What is it?"

Arthur nearly barked, "Nothing," but he held his tongue and didn't pull away. "U-um..." Flushing, he wasn't even sure if he knew the answer to her question. "I just, um, uh, wanted to... talk to you?"

"Talk away." Letting her hand slide off Arthur's wrist, Belle interlaced her fingers beneath the back of her head.

"Um." He had no idea what to say next. What was he even doing? He could have at least had the courtesy to let her sleep as much as she needed before he went out of his way to say nothing. He should have just pushed the emotion down to a reasonable level and... and crawled back behind his stupid barriers... and let the whole thing rot so he'd never again have to hope she'd reciprocate... It actually sounded worse the more he thought about it.

Swallowing, he gripped his knees. "Um, I—I'm sorry for being an idiot. Uh, l-last night in particular."

Belle waited for a moment, but he just sat there taking deep breaths. "We've been over that stuff," she sighed. "It's really not a big deal."

"Not—not just everything being shabby. Me acting, er, like... that. Um, like I did." Heart pounding faster than it had been from the nightmare, he tried to control his breathing. "I was just panicking, and, um, I—I didn't want to look like, u-uh, more of an idiot than I already did, so I... I a-acted unnecessarily harsh. Wh-when I shouldn't have. Um, not that I ever should, just..." He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut now that he could actually see some of her face in the dim light. "Sorry," he finished so weakly he wasn't sure she heard. His stomach was twisting too much for him to feel able to say any more without throwing up.

"Okay," Belle murmured. "I mean, people snap when they're stressed out, and you were definitely stressed out. Try not to do it again, of course, but..." Arthur had reopened his eyes just enough to see her lips curve up. "You'd have to try a lot harder than that to make me hate you. You'll still have to try hard to make me love you, but—maybe not quite so much."

She patted Arthur on the knee and rolled onto her side, away from him. "Good night."

"Uh—" he tried to echo her, but his mouth was too dry—"yeah."

She didn't respond, so Arthur slowly crawled back towards his set of branches. Twigs rattling from his shaking grip, he made it back to his perch before realizing he wasn't breathing. He let out a wheeze of an exhale and stared out at the inky sky.

He couldn't even try to analyze the conversation with his neurons firing as rapidly and incomprehensibly as they were. He just tried to relax and listened to the voices that were a lot quieter than usual.

* * *

By midmorning, the sun was conspiring with the muggy atmosphere to launch a full-fledged assault. Glaring light bounced off car windows and the faded white paint on the asphalt. Any standing water from the day before had vanished, leaving the travelers with precious few sips remaining in their water bottles.

"I'm starting to think," Belle croaked, "we should just lay low for a while. Maybe head off again come evening." She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "To be honest, I feel like doing anything but walking today."

Arthur frowned, glancing over her. "Why? Are you feeling all right?"

Belle laughed weakly. "Yes and no. Let's just say it's been about a month since I left Killeen."

Arthur stared at her for a second before it clicked. "O-oh." He looked off to the side, wiping some sweat off his bow hand.

"There appear to be some signs and other streets ahead," Kiku started. "Perhaps it would be best to see if there are any buildings before we stop."

"Yeah," Belle panted. "Some shade and walls would be nice."

The three fell silent as they struggled to gain a little more ground. Eventually the crossroad came underfoot, and not enough trees bordered the street to obscure the house ahead. A few others seemed to be farther behind it, but the first house seemed sturdy enough as they approached. Although, at this point, any structure that didn't scream "death trap" was good enough for Belle.

Exhaling, Belle tried the front door to find it was firmly closed but unlocked. Mumbling a thanks to the heavens, she turned the knob and carefully stepped inside. The door opened straight into the living room, a mass of slightly-rumpled white carpet encumbered by a television, bookshelves, and a large, bluish couch. The air inside was so brisk Belle's knees nearly buckled just standing in front of the door. No infecteds were in sight, and no heavy footfalls were coming to check the door.

"Looks okay," she said, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing on the nearest cushion. The others followed her inside, eyes widening as the sunless chill hit them. Kiku quickly shut the door behind him, throwing the room into near-darkness. A few glowing slats of sunlight cut up the carpet opposite the blinded window, but that was all. The two men had to grope through the darkness to find the couch, but neither complained.

"There's room for you up here, too," Arthur breathed, glancing at the side of Kiku's head before shutting his eyes.

Kiku lay back on the carpet. "I'm all right here, thank you."

"Suit yourself." Arthur rested the back on his head on the top of the couch. "This tacky fake leather is wonderfully cool."

"It's almost cold in here," Belle mumbled, holding her bangs away from her face for a moment.

"I like it," Arthur said, stretching his arms.

Belle swatted at his elbow. "Stop it. Your pits smell terrible."

Arthur deliberated for a moment without putting his arms down. "Kiku, I'm just going to join you on the floor." Arms still up, he stood for a second and flopped onto the carpet. "Ow—and that is your shoe."

"Sorry." A bit of sunlight glinted off Kiku's hair as he shifted.

"Sorry."

Belle laughed softly. "If you two are having enough fun down there, I'm just going to take up the whole couch."

"Go right ahead," Arthur grunted, rolling onto his back.

As Belle slid down, the couch made a zipping sound, eliciting a snort from Arthur.

The three lay in dazed silence for a while before Arthur announced, "This was a really good idea."

"Thanks," Belle and Kiku said at the same time. Giggling, Belle tried to exchange a glance with Kiku, but he seemed to be hiding his face at the moment.

With a pleased sigh, Belle thumped her head back on the armrest and swished the water bottle in her hand. She waited a while longer before daring to take another sip. The water was lukewarm, but it took enough of the strain off her dry throat that it was hard to stop herself. She screwed the lid back on with shaking hands.

Was she actually shivering? Good grief, this house was wonderful. She hadn't remembered taking shelter in any place so cool since the journey started. Then again, most houses had open doors or windows and didn't seem as new as this one. And she hadn't been in condition to estimate temperature most of the time she had been in Arthur's house.

His couch hadn't been this cushy, either.

At this point she was having trouble imagining leaving this place. Between the monthly unwillingness of her legs to move and the fatigue from days of nothing but walking, she wouldn't want to get up from any sort of shade. Add in the heavenly frostiness of this place, and she was pretty much frozen to the spot. That wasn't a bad thing, though. Going on in this heat with nearly no water could easily be lethal. Rest was not only what she wanted but also what she needed.

Some part of her was still itching to get out and run to Claus, but he was a while away yet. Motivation was important, but so was common sense.

Belle started to wonder if she was actually going to fall asleep. She had been having enough troubled dreams without Arthur jerking her awake in the middle of the night, and if she could sleep well now, she should have taken the opportunity. Surely it wouldn't hurt to close her eyes. With three fighters in the room, someone would have to be ready if an infected or two came knocking.

The click of the doorknob nearly sent Belle tumbling off the couch. The other two sat up as well, but no one had a weapon raised before someone stepped inside.

"Oh!" he said, stopping in the doorway, where the sunlight silhouetted his large figure. "I wasn't expecting guests."


	30. Host

Arthur had an arrow nocked before Belle could whip her rifle out. The owner of the house moved slowly, holding his hands up, as he flicked on the lights.

"Good morning," he started, stepping inside. No longer faced with a stark silhouette, Belle could finally get a decent glimpse of the newcomer. Platinum blonde hair, bright eyes, large nose, soft smile. His white T-shirt was sweaty enough to cling to him, but he slipped a tall, tan coat and a worn, white scarf off the coat rack as he entered.

"Or is it afternoon yet?" He cast a glance behind him but shrugged.

Belle hastily got to her feet. "I think it's still morning, so good morning." She carefully slipped her bags over her shoulders. "Sorry, we didn't realize someone was still living here."

The owner shut the door behind him in a snap. "Oh, no, don't worry about it! It's been so long since I've had any company—Have you eaten lunch yet?" He bounced on his feet. "I could treat you!"

Belle paused, looking over at her companions. Kiku frowned, resting a hand on his sword hilt. Arthur relaxed his bowstring but kept the arrow nocked and aimed at the newcomer.

"You guys don't seem too happy with the idea," she started.

"He's a stranger," Arthur said, frowning harder the more the homeowner smiled. "We're not supposed to take candy from him."

Belle folded her arms. "You used to be a stranger. Should I have run away from you?"

Arthur shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "Well, he is not I."

"Yeah, he didn't just shoot me when he came in."

With a sigh, Arthur put up his arrow. Belle patted him on the crown and turned to Kiku, who folded his hands in front of him but continued to give the newcomer a death glare.

"Come on, don't be rude," she said, pouting. Kiku flushed a bit and dropped his gaze.

"So, lunch is okay?" the homeowner started, clapping his hands together.

"If you want." Belle wiped some chilled sweat off her forehead. "We can throw in some of our food, too, just to be fair."

"If you'd like," the host said with a smile. "Keep cooling off, and I'll find something—oh! I never gave you a proper introduction. I'm Ivan."

"Belle."

Arthur didn't make eye contact with Ivan. "Arthur."

Kiku only glanced at Ivan's eyes. "And my name is Kiku."

"Pleased to meet you," Belle finished with a little bow.

"_Ochen' priyatno_," Ivan replied, smiling wide. "You as well."

Belle giggled, and for a second Arthur panicked. Had he had just lost his one romantic advantage of having an accent she liked? If she was charmed by his own pronunciations and slightly different vocabulary, how much more would she like someone who actually spoke some Russian? When he was younger, Arthur had been forced to learn a bit of French, but he remembered little and wasn't fond of the language, anyway. But he could always try to brush up on it if he needed to. He certainly didn't have any of those old books on him, but maybe he could swipe a text from the university on the way back. Or would that be too late?

"I'll get something started, then!" Ivan said, still sounding psychotically overjoyed. "None of you have any food allergies, do you?" he called as he stepped back, into the kitchen.

"Not me," Belle said, looking at the other two, who shook their heads. "Nope, we're all good."

"Okay." Ivan opened his refrigerator door. "The last travelers that came this way didn't have any, either. Can't help to check, though. I'd hate to kill you when you just showed up here." He pulled a plastic container out from a high shelf.

"Can't help to check," Belle repeated slowly, leaning back against the couch and shivering a bit. "Do you get visitors often?"

"Oh, no." A steady rhythm of slices through something thick thumped beneath his words, but the kitchen wall hid both food and cook. "I haven't seen anyone else in... probably two years now." He leaned back so that Belle could see his smiling face. "I'm really glad you're staying for lunch."

Belle smiled back. "No problem."

Ivan hovered there a moment longer before returning to the task at hand. "Did you bring anything that needs cooking, or can we just throw it on a plate without any more fuss?"

Belle unzipped a bag. "I have protein bars and—Arthur, we have some more grapefruits, right?"

"Er, yes." Arthur shuffled his backpack off his shoulders and pawed through its contents. "Seven."

"And they won't keep too terribly long, so—" Belle rubbed her forearm—"should we go ahead and have one each?"

"If you can eat that much," Arthur replied, pulling out some of the fruits and setting them on the coffee table. After returning his backpack to its place, he gathered the food in his arms and walked to the dining room.

"I'm sure we can handle it," Belle said, listening as Ivan chopped up something smaller. "Do you like grapefruit at all, Ivan?"

"Sure! Would you like me to cook them or anything?"

Belle looked back at the others, but Kiku was investigating a scratch on his sleeve, and Arthur didn't open his mouth as he dumped the fruit on the dinner table.

"You guys!" she said exasperatedly, pushing her bangs back. "I know you're tired, but there's no need to act like this. We barged into his house, and he's being nice enough to feed us instead of booting us out. At least pretend to be grateful."

"Sorry," Kiku started hastily, shuffling past the couch into the dining room area. "I have no preference as far as the grapefruit is concerned." He stood tiptoed to get closer to her ear. "I just have a bad feeling about him," he muttered.

He took a step back before Belle could respond, leaving her bemused as she agreed to help Arthur peel the grapefruit.

How on earth was Ivan giving off bad vibes? There was that one comment about killing them, but wording one sentence in a weird way didn't make him a threat. He had been alone for some time, but he seemed more together than Arthur. Maybe a little smiley, but he finally had company, and what was wrong about finding joy in that? The happiness even justified his being so quick to offer lunch—if Belle hadn't seen another soul in years, she would want to host any visitors she saw.

"So do you enjoy freezing your ears off, or did you break your thermostat?" Arthur started.

Belle elbowed him.

"What? I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Oh, it's been broken for a long time now." Ivan moved to the stovetop, where the others could see him. "It did manage to hold out until I couldn't call anyone to fix it, though." He laughed. "One winter, it got so bad Yekaterina tried to... break open..." He trailed off with a sigh.

Belle and Arthur exchanged a glance, but neither commented as they continued preparing the grapefruit.

"But nothing worked," Ivan finished, "so it's always cold. On days like these I hardly mind, though." He looked over his shoulder at them. "If you need any jackets, I have spares in the front closet, to the side of the couch."

"Thanks," Belle said. "I'll probably grab one in a minute."

With a nod, Ivan smiled again and turned back to his work.

Arthur quickly tore away the last of his grapefruit peel and took a step back. "Here, let me fetch one for you."

"Thanks," Belle called as he walked briskly into the living room.

"I'll get mine in a moment," Kiku said, stepping over by Belle to peel the next grapefruit. Aside from one glance at Arthur when the closet door opened, he didn't take his eyes off Ivan.

* * *

It took more time to get lunch on the table than Belle would have normally liked. Today, however, she didn't mind having a good excuse to stay in one location. Ivan's backyard water well didn't hurt, either. No wonder he had stayed in this house for so long.

At the head of the table, Ivan started to pass the bowl of beets around. Looking at the two at his right and one on his left, he smiled. "So where are you three headed?"

Belle dipped out a portion onto her plate and passed the bowl on to Arthur. "Hunt. My little brother was—" she fingered her cup of water—"last seen there. You haven't heard any news from the west, have you?"

Ivan pressed the tip of his spoon to his mouth. "No, I don't think so." He passed the grapefruit slices to Belle and smiled at her. "You have a little brother?"

Sliding the bowl in front of her, Belle crossed her legs. "And an older one, but he's safe back home." She exhaled, scooping out her share of slices before pushing the bowl to Arthur.

"Ah, so we're both middle siblings!" Ivan exclaimed before his gaze dropped to the table. "Or, were. I—"

"I'm not going to make you talk about it," Belle said quickly, taking the next dish Ivan handed her.

Ivan frowned. "No, it's all right. It's been so long now I'd rather talk about them than not." He paused, doling out some asparagus onto his plate. "It's almost like... keeping them alive somehow, _da_?"

"I guess," Belle responded quietly, watching her plate and twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

Arthur put his elbows on the table hard and scowled at Ivan. "Well, write their stories down or tell it to yourself after we leave—there's no reason for us to listen to it."

As Kiku took the plate of refrigerated meat, Belle squinted at Arthur. "Didn't I just tell you not to be rude?" she whispered.

"But you don't want to hear more dead-siblings talk," Arthur whispered back, nearly spitting on her. "I'm just trying to..." Exhaling, he fiddled with his shirt collar and stabbed one of the beet slices. "Sorry."

Belle sighed, rubbing her forehead. Eventually she turned back towards Ivan, who looked like a little kid trying to make sense of an advanced calculus class. "Go ahead, if you want," she said.

"I'll have to handle these things eventually," she added softer than the host could hear, rubbing her forehead again and taking a drink of water.

"Okay," Ivan started slowly, sitting back up. "And you two don't mind?" He smiled in such a sweet way Arthur thought he'd have better luck punching in that fat nose than saying no.

"Sure," the archer deadpanned, not looking away from his food. Belle lifted an elbow to nudge him but gave up.

Ivan looked to Kiku for a response but eventually took his silence as a sign of approval.

"Okay," the homeowner said, exhaling in relief. He sent the last bowl of food around the table before beginning his story.


	31. Story

"My sisters were Yekatarina and Natalya. Yekaterina was three years older than me and very reliable. Natalya was two years younger than me and very pretty. They were both—" Ivan's eyebrows tilted outward—"a bit weird. But—ha—that may not be the nicest way to introduce them. We had our problems, but I couldn't have wished for better sisters.

"All three of us made it through the initial outbreaks together. More zombies came this way than travelers, although cars and trucks would still zoom past."

Belle stiffened at that but silently continued eating.

"Eventually the raiders started finding us. That was before the infecteds really started getting weak, but the zombies weren't trying to run off with the generator or bags of food. Or my sisters." Ivan's face darkened for a moment, but he shook it off and smiled. "Natalya was actually the first of us to kill one of them. We all had to defend ourselves, though, especially when groups came. Despite our best efforts, we did lose a lot of things to them, and one boy almost killed Yekaterina—but I got him first! Ah, it took ages to clean the mess off the porch." He smiled briefly, but it was so serene Belle started to get an idea of why Kiku hadn't taken to him much.

"Yekaterina still had a limp when she recovered, though. It wasn't a big deal—we all did more slicing and shooting than kicking, and, since we were always around the house, there wasn't much need to run. Things started to slow, raiders found other places to settle down, zombies ambled around lost, and my sisters and I were able to calm down and try to enjoy each other's company.

"But we didn't have all the supplies in the world, and it took a lot of fat to keep the generator running, so we'd risk going out a few hours a day. We spent time together taking down infecteds, and sometimes more raiders if we needed to." With a sigh, he smiled sadly and took another drink.

"It was two years and seven months ago. The sun was beating down on us, but there was a nice breeze. We were on our way to check our game traps, a good walk away. We brought meals and a few bags' worth of extra supplies, just to be safe. Yekaterina volunteered to carry all of it, smiling and telling us a little weight to balance out her chest might help with her back pain. I let her."

Exhaling, he stopped for a minute to chew on a forkful of beet. Belle, still twirling her hair, stabbed at a skinny slice of asparagus but just watched it sit on her fork. Arthur eyed her, glared at Ivan for needing to talk about dead siblings, and silently slid his elbow over the table to touch Belle's. She glanced at him and took another bite of her meal.

"We were still walking right next to the street when the sound of a diesel engine started coming towards us. I—I pulled on Natalya's arm to get her farther away from the road. She kind of looked at me funny, like I didn't trust her to avoid getting run over, but she didn't say anything. She liked my attention too much to really mind.

"By the time I let go, the car was slowing down and almost right next to us. It was some kind of sports car, a beaten-down red convertible with the top down. Two people were inside, although I couldn't see them very well until the car stopped about ten feet in front of us. A man and a woman, both with short, dark hair. The man was driving, with the woman squished in the backseat right behind him. Her irises were so light her eyes seemed entirely white when she turned her gun on us.

"At first I thought there must have been infecteds nearby, but I was already moving before I realized how stupid that sounded. Why would they use bullets when they had a working car? Instead the ammo went flying for us, splintering the bark in front of me with crunching noises. It—it couldn't have been more than seconds since the whole thing started, but it already felt much too late when I thought to check on my sisters. Natalya was right beside me, clinging to my upper arm—I couldn't fathom how I hadn't realized that before. I-I immediately thought Yekaterina must have been on my other side. Um, she wasn't."

Rubbing the table with one hand, Ivan went through another forkful of beet in little time.

"I stopped—I didn't even know I was running until then—and nearly tripped over Natalya when I turned around. Yekaterina was running towards us, but she was still close to where we started, and I-I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. I probably would have remembered the limp in another minute, b-but once the red started spraying from her side, I couldn't make sense of much of anything anymore."

Shivering, he rested his chin in his hands. "She was wearing her white button-up shirt. It already had some faded bloodstains, but the red blooming onto the fabric was much more vibrant. It didn't seem like as much as I expected—I only saw three bullet holes in her shirt—but she s-still started stumbling and hit the ground face-first, about ten feet away from us. A little poof of dirt came up when she hit, mucking up the blood. Sh-she scrabbled at the ground, struggling to push herself up, but she couldn't.

"I had forgotten about the gun at that point. I ran towards her—there had to be some way I could drag her to safety, put enough pressure on the wounds, and she'd be okay. W-we had made it so far, fought so many raiders—h-how could she not pull through this, too?

"My first lunge was strong enough to drag Natalya with me. She started shouting for me to stop, but I knew Yekaterina was still breathing; I saw her shoulders moving. The bullets were landing outside the line between her and me, so I didn't notice them. I couldn't hear anything but my own pulse, and a raspy breathing from at least one of us. But I did hear Natalya's last time screaming my name as I knelt by Yekaterina and pulled her up by the shoulders.

"Blood welled up in my mouth, and suddenly I was just drooling it. Natalya started screaming incoherently, pulling me back towards the trees so hard she pulled both of us a bit before I started to feel the hole in my cheek, right by my lip." He prodded the area with his finger, and Belle blankly noted there was a hint of a scar there she had missed.

"I could finally hear the gun firing all around us. Already feeling sick from the blood going down my throat, I cast a glance back—the man was still ready to drive off, one hand on the wheel. The woman had come out of the car and was approaching us, step by step, shot by shot. I put my arms under Yekaterina's armpits and started backing up, trying to keep an eye on both of my sisters. At some point, Natalya slipped between me and the shooter. She took a bullet before I even saw where she was.

"Yekaterina had a shot through her head by the time Natalya gasped and clutched her own arm. I must have known that Yekaterina was probably dead, but it didn't keep me from trying to drag her farther away. I-I just had to be able to save her, you know? And Natalya would make it, too—it was only a shot to the arm, after all. She wasn't screaming, I thought, so it couldn't have been bad—I don't know why I told myself that when Yekaterina was dead right there without ever having screamed. I don't know why I was thinking half the things I was thinking. Just all of the adrenaline, all of the blood running down my chin, the nice breeze dying down...

"So I kept dragging Yekaterina's body as the shooter stayed after us. Since all she carried was a gun and bullets, she was covering more ground than me. Natalya helped with h-her sister's dead weight, but we hadn't made it back to the trees before she shouted and fell into me. I could just feel the raze of a bullet across the front of my chest, but there was more blood on the side of my shirt than where my wound was, a-and then Natalya was coughing. It was normal-sounding at first, but on the—" he faltered—"the third cough... I think it was..." Trembling at the thought of forgetting one piece of the story, he took a deep breath.

"That's when I could hear the blood c-coming up from her lungs. Finally I felt myself panic. Here I was, trying to drag my dead sister to safety while my living sister tried to shield me from the bullets still coming, probably at the cost of her life.

"Natalya growled something at me and managed to shake my hands off Yekaterina. We picked up the pace towards the trees, and the shooter either let us get there or had to reload—everything was happening so fast, or slow, or _something_, that I can't say which sounds more realistic.

"I remember Natalya looking back, tears running down her face, and she never cried, but there was definitely something to cry about, a-and..." He shakily took another sip of water. "And I found myself looking back, too. The shooter woman came right up to Yekaterina, started pulling some of her bags off her, and then—and then gave up and decided to just haul the entire corpse back to the car. I couldn't see much through the branches, but it was still a miracle the woman didn't turn and see us. I guess she thought we were already out of range by then.

"The shooter t-took Yekaterina away, out of my sight, and I turned back towards Natalya, to check her wounds and tell her to stay quiet. She was still crying a little bit, but her face was red with anger. Before I could clear my head enough to tell her anything, she already had a knife drawn. She only cast one tearful look back at me as she jumped over bushes and charged ahead. I fumbled with the branches, barely able to stop myself from shouting her name.

"Natalya was already running for the car, which was behind me now. The woman threw Yekaterina in the passenger seat without looking back, and the man was already giving the car gas before either of them noticed Natalya. I finally ran after her, yelling for her to stop and take cover, but she grabbed a closed car door and flung herself inside, smacking her heel into the shooter's face on the way in. The driver didn't stop, but why would he? Natalya was already h-half-drowning in blood, and even when she started stabbing the woman, it only took one shot before she fell down in the floor. And then the car just kept driving away."

Ivan looked around the table for a moment before turning back towards his plate and finishing off his asparagus.

Arthur watched Belle. She was still corkscrewing that lock of hair, but she kept eating quietly. Her breaths were shaky, but she had never quite reached a point where Arthur had to stop Ivan in the middle of the story. Maybe because most of it was about the older sibling rather than the younger. She still looked paler than he would have liked, but she insisted on this, so...

With a glare at Ivan, who had somehow managed to tell the whole story without crying, Arthur chewed on the last of his meat. Kiku, despite having waited for Ivan to take a first bite of each part of the meal before warily starting on it himself, had already finished eating. Belle mechanically put food in her mouth, chewing like a kid being forced to eat her vegetables.

"So that's—" Ivan rubbed the edge of his plate—"that's that story. If there's anything you guys want to share, go ahead." He smiled. "If I'm going to dump my troubles on you, I have to be ready to accept the reverse."

Kiku folded his hands. "Thank you, but all of my siblings are still alive. I don't have much of a story in comparison to yours."

"I have no idea how my family's doing," Arthur said, cheek smushing against his hand as he leaned on it. Like Kiku, he didn't actually look over at Ivan when he spoke.

"My older brother's still doing fine," Belle started. Her voice was softer than usual, but otherwise unalarming. "I'm trying to find my younger brother now, so there's really no telling." She managed to smile at Ivan. "There's a good enough chance to chase after, you know?"

"Ah." Ivan kept smiling. "That's wonderful. I'm glad you have a chance to see him again."

"Me, too." With one last twirl, Belle let go of her hair and scooped up her last slice of grapefruit.


End file.
